How To Hold You Now

there is no way, actually
to repay uncounted courage

there is no way to say
what lines the heart

there are no swans
no thrumming wings
write the sky full

that road carries no sign

Overboard

Li Po had no truck
with suffering for art
they say, when he fell
he was drunk and laughing

if the water is hungry
sing or swim, sing or swim

Two consecutive days, two contrasting feelings; or, the inner voice of pining grief, and the older, grumpier inner voice who shoves a shoulder underneath the first and gives it a good shake, for the mopey wastrel urge that never built any legacy of worth.

These poems fall back on Li Po’s legendary status as one who lived and died a Bon Vivant; I’m also reminded of this great bit of skiffle madness from Doug and the Slugs:

Title River Image by Johannes Plenio  via pixabay.com