In a hut far from the village Li Hua bends over his canvas like an insect. He is so deliberate, each stroke is a spider's legs fighting the current. There is a war in his veins, a battle of desires. He is jealous of Li Po whose pictures glide like the moon over dark water. I do not wish to disturb him as he tries to make art in this time of death, so I will wait, like a fly on the tip of a stick, until he is finished. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LITTLE SONG OF LIFE by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN ROMAIOS by WILLAM GAY BALLANTINE THE EMANCIPATION OF HIS MISTRESS' PERFECTIONS by FRANCIS BEAUMONT ADESTE FIDELES by BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX TAKE YOUR CHOICE: AND BLISS CARMAN by BERTON BRALEY |