Three Poems in the Chinese Manner

Diane di Prima

Her stone grey eyes like liquid mercury
While light from blue waters rippled over her face
She raised her hand in which a peony trembled
And smiled––a tear sparked silent as a star
I took the flower & turned in my heavy cloak.

Still heat in the lowlands; there is thunder among the clouds
A cicada shrieks from the palmetto, stirring the surface of the inlet
Though a piercing intent dwells in my stormy heart (solar plexus)
This poem resembles thunder without lightning.

Like a bird hidden in the white throat of a lily
I sleep with my hips in the sand, among bright stones
No wind stirs even the lowest oat grass
But from the sea the night horn of a passing boat
Carries me in the dark to the jade door of a star.

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