All day it has wanted to rain.
A constant breeze
from the north where shadows live
in ancient government
among the old huge trees
carries a little scent of wood
into the city. It ruffles
some waxy green leaves
outside my window.
The window is very solid,
my hair is completely still.
Lu Chi in the 3rd century
you wrote your treatise
to discover the difference
between good and bad writing.
But you already knew
the leaves fall in autumn
and each artist has
a particular way
to magic and sadness.
I know my beloved
is very close, she works
in a modern building
made of orange neon and steel,
I don't have to dream of her,
she is very far away from heaven,
there are no actual mountains
between us. Soon we will
have lunch together.
Then maybe I will write
a letter and drop it
into a blue box. Some rivers
go underground, I know
one here in the city
beneath the armory
flows, many times
I have walked above it
and felt a peace I am happy
I will never be able to explain.