He binds his eye lashes with the charge
of a lazy brigade.
High fans, radio shows,
crackle the tassle of the daisy chain.
Precedent rulings broken on a diamond
hand, calls her bluff in the paper cup of denial.
“Where’s my magic wand?”
the impudent chomps out loud
The bright red and black one, studded with sequins,
glazed in a eucharist come-hither
Were it so easy a question
or even so powerful a tool
In the end of the ceremony, when all the wealth has been splayed
He will now submerge himself in the grasses
of a summer sublime
no more foul of past condescensions
gargling forth from his masters
and the howl of the wand-seeker
will be cancelled by the rain.
— yiqi 11 nov 2011 6:54 PM