the lost dove
the last dove
sits at bay
on its butt
two candles
different in height
casts three shadows
people who don't even
speak Chinese
being disappointed in me
because I don't
read Chinese
today my first
birthday post
came from Po Chu
in Hong Kong
from a curve
strikes my attention
from a slice of pear
gut hurts
safe ground no mimicking
stereo of being above a floor
thunds, then ders,
pipe clang yabber
finally,
silence comes flushing
and out come word,
out come poem
till the cow comes home
