Sunday, July 6, 2014
POEM: "Two Poets In China, 744 AD"
Two Poets In China, 744 AD
How did all these fingers get into me
a moon with 2 faces, one of them useless
a leap-year with the rabbits going crazy
a poet who looked like a servant, a butcher
a street sweeper, a sweetheart, a burglar
a poet to be a horse’s ass, two poets to be us
(a glass of wine, wrinkled clothes, the smiles)
how do you ever know what someone knows,
waving at the children, this parade of river
skips along, and the old boat ferries it easily...
where one of them was a wrong one, a murderer
and one was alright (he looked mentally defective)
they were dear to me, I travelled with them both.
© 2014 Rob Schackne