“My white hair extends three miles…”
Li Po, Chiupu River Song
Poetry is not poetry lest
it is a gateway to the soul
and her floral unfolding—
covering then all—not unlike
the town of Kueichih
on the way to Li Po’s
Nine Flower Mountain
where a sound spirit used
to intercede and cut
to the dead penalties
and their terms in Hell.
And in the same way,
if apposite, poems extend
thoughts far across this Earth.
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