I open window to greet ashen sky,
A shy fellow he is, covered in misty clouds.
Laying in my bed, I douse myself In comfort.
Too comfortable… Watching bamboo spoon falling,
My finger too limped to react,
So I let it thump the floor.

I enjoy the tangy of spring,
tasting plum wine as cherry blossom.
Eastern river is dried bamboo shoots,
a sweet yet melodic taste brings me home.
At the end of the river is where my heart lays;
a vast, endless ocean;
sadly, people only see fishes in little Ju lake;
the river behind the lake,
ocean behind river that's hidden.

swift breeze rolling waves
bamboo flutists trying notes -
symphony in air.

I feel like a stranger
In my home,
In my body;
Invisible and wearing
A sheet over my head.

Unheard by all
Worldly ears,
I’m sure the universe
Turns a blind eye
To my prayers.

I like to relate
Myself to bamboo;
Hollow but strong-
Willed. Lanky and
Filled with watery wisdom.

But quiet,
Oh so quiet.
A deadly weapon
And a shield
Against unlistening ears.

The bamboo forest favors impermanence
Flower petals, thunder, snow flakes
So let the time traveling tourist tell us
We will have something to say about this, later

Bamboo spine
bones and all,
stand tall

Soak up the
sour & the sweet

Remove yourself from
soil so dry

Plant your body
& your soul
in self-loving hands

Sway with the wind
but remember to
create your own someday

Nurture your warmth
don't let it die  

You are free to grow
in this landscape.

Remind your mind's eye.
This is your time.