Jing Ting Mountain

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys: “painting the peak like a peak some sage for the bedside // how to have that peak now making up the plain // I will tell my heart to change lodgings”


One by one I took an assortment of items out of the depths for cleaning and winding. One lung lay asleep; the other traced feeble circles on a cold saucer. I rubbed the tip of a raku-fired stone and its face bloomed like a small moon behind a mountain. In the closer distance, animals scoured …

Whither the mountains of yesteryear?

The Storialist: Each year, the mountain loses more of itself, its footing. Ice fall and avalanche in place of an unmoving surface. Inside, stretched and shifting, a piano slipping out of tune. Mountains of today are not the mountains of your childhood.

Spicebush silkmoths

It never fails to amaze me how little we know about our neighbors here. I’ve been noticing these curled-leaf cocoons on spicebushes for years, but never realized that they were most likely the work of the promethea moth, A.K.A. spicebush silkmoth. In fact, I’m embarrassed to admit that we initially mis-identified this mating pair on …

Diorama, with Mountain City and Fog

This entry is part 46 of 73 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2011-12

On Friday afternoons, my father sometimes picked me up from school and took me with him up Session Road, past Assandas, Bombay, and Bheroomull’s department stores; then Dainty Restaurant where the chess-players were by then deep in their cups, and the air was fragrant with the smells of coffee, soy sauce, and sesame oil. In …