We drank blood
That Chinese witch and I,
we were made for each other.
News of her death reached me
from Mr. Li.
Though I see her face on a million demons,
still I miss her.
Old and dirty and crazed,
I lick her bones on the jade highway.
Poet's Notes: I enjoy reading Chinese poetry, old or new. Here is my "Chinese" poem. The title came first, and the rest came down the mental pike a week or so later. There is nothing autobiographical about this poem; it's entirely a product of my imagination. I will cruise forever the jade highway of my mind.
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