Spring Powder Colt Said

could the moon
pulled down by spirits
be a bridge across the ocean?

this boat does not float
this philosopher's stone
is a submarine viewing platform
a jasper flower

which with its periscope is used
to spy upon and record
the dark blue clouds at night

a picture jasper coral house
whose windows
are a captured calligraphy
of architectural bubbles

that preach a song:

the south shore
is a zither
of yellow arrowroot

and the young man
and woman with yellow hats
are the deer parsley
of autumn
which moves silently
between the heavy iron
duck incense braziers

that flank the dark gouge
and smoke
where the moon came down
and skittered

our auspicious mark

and even still we watch the volcanos
from fierce piebald horsebacks
on a distant ridge
away from the impact zone
our moon bridge flaming
before us

worthless
and immortal
our adjustment stands

we'll call it
dappled

thousand league
peach mountain

of drugs
we'll call it

kunstlump

but our fine horses
have their stables
under the sea

our fine
tiger-killing
horses