In Sichuan, Emperor Shen Nung strolled
along heaven's palisades. He breathed
the air's geometry, the sculpted water
and chiseled flower. A monkey
high in the canopy flung a camellia leaf
into his hot water. Its char reached his nose
and heaven's cradle swayed.
From the cup rose islands and smoke,
sea pines from empires beyond. He tried another
leaf, then bid his monks dry, roll and press the greens
and in an ideogram black as the cypresses
declared the sip an art and prayer pastime.

Below a whizzing freeway, a parasailer
monkey-dances, plucking twigs from cliffs
of scrubby pines. He gathers withered greens
that will unfurl in china pots to let us sail
for invisible islands on camellia boats
fanned and dunked, shivering up scents
of gold and lavender in triptych undersides.
Tea turns us into zen librarians,
makes each cup a quiet room
for reading a new world of fine lines.
 

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about the author:
Rachel Dacus' poetry collection, Earth Lessons (Bellowing Ark Press), was followed by a poetry-and-music CD, A God You Can Dance. Her poetry was anthologized in Ravishing DisUnities: Real Ghazals in English (Wesleyan University Press) and The Best of Melic (Melic Review), as well as in numerous journals, including Boulevard, Many Mountains Moving and North American Review. She is at work on a memoir, Rocket Lessons. More of her work can be found at www.dacushome.com.  

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