The American English Teacher Reads the Ancient Chinese Masters
I want those mountains, that river,
my head in those clouds–that kind of wandering,
self-ablaze, alive with possibility,
drunk with wine,
as silent as nature,
found again only through right diligence,
an effort conspired against by
almost every natural fact of modern living.
I long to see stars again
and breathe deeply an air free of diesel,
gasoline, concrete, rubber, and garbage, which,
even in my bucolic suburban neighborhood, is always present,
the persistent, nagging ghost,
the shadow of civilized life.