Although I am broken and have no business
Being in any such place, I like a rugged landscape,
The kind classical Chinese poets might apostrophize,
Where clouds surround my head and touch my face,
And the mountains rise straight from my eyes.
Tonight, without a moon, the stars would be out
Over the high and leafless aspens dangling catkins,
Were it not for clouds and their mountain lightning,
Slightly eerie, noiseless flickering, reminding me
Why humans imagined only supernatural beings
Would be at ease among the peaks.
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