A carriage and 12 horses like the Apocalypse.
A rickshaw in a Beijing hutong. Wiry rider stands on pedals
because our dreams are heavy.
20 chickens in 3 boxes on 1 moped—brown feathers glitter
in the fog. The little girl next to me on the bus to Xin Ping wants to know my name
but she can’t hear it because the sounds that make my name don’t yet exist
in her brain. We laugh and fall
in love with each other for ever.
A Chinese river boat at sunset, children squealing as they push each other in,
my hand feels small inside his.
A jet plane, sky upside down, clouds sheepish, everything possible.
(Painting by Odilon Redon)