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Clothed in tattered sunlight.

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a bank of cloud rises up silently like dark bread.

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neither soul nor body has been crossed.

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Sung-wu pushed angrily forward. “I am a Bard, from the Central Chamber; do you people recognize this?”

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Cinctures of golden plover glittered round the clear zenith of the ice-blue sky.

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Stars did not know where they belonged

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birds and iguanas and fish

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Image

I have as much of the spirit of prophecy in me as the swans.

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“seven palaces”

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I still remember that vigil very distinctly: the black and silent observatory, the shadowed lantern throwing a feeble glow upon the floor...

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