for Jen so far away
I saw a shining moon last night
through leafy poplars and pines
on Taibai Mountain
and thought of you awake
amid the lowing of Brahmin bulls.
I thought of Li Bai
spilling ink down the mountain
leaving black stains
and wondered whose Dreaming
spilt red on the Kimberleys?
Moon waxes and wanes
in rippling mountain streams
and pulls the ocean’s tides
like the force that draws
me to you, you to me.
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