Tu Fu Visits Li Po Poem by Clyde King

My skiff is yare and tight
and still knows how to find Li's
bamboo hut on this great river.
The cormorant's black wings
wave to me a welcome.
You run to greet me and
as you embrace me I smell
boiled cabbage, onions, bread,
and I see three little fishes
in your basket trap. Dinner
is almost ready. Good timing Tu.
The green wine bottles are 'breathing'
in this joyful air as I am.
Can life get any better than this?

'Tu, you haven't changed at all
since you were that dreamy and
adventurous sixteen year old.'
My friend doesn't know the hard
times I've had and the deaths I've caused.
Every night I wipe off this dust from
the dead and I see faceless ghosts
that motion for me to cross over
and leave this world. The monkeys
in his garden distract me while Li
suggests we have a poetry contest,
like in the old days. Why not?
Li is a man of letters and I've been a soldier
in the emperor's guard. Perhaps our
fanciful figurations will keep my ghosts
away for now. Li gets his son to tune his lute
and we're off with wine at our backs.

The candles grow shorter and shorter.
Empty wine bottles litter the floor.
The oven's fire has died and a rooster
is crowing. It's time to go now.
I've still got a long way to travel.
I wipe off the ghost's dust, embrace
Li, and push my skiff into the turbid waters
my life has become.

Dec.2020