THE MASTER CALLIGRAPHER’S SCHOOL OF X’IAN
(“The Master Calligrapher’s School” sample)
After dusk I left the Muslim quarter,
alleyways of truth in living — passionate and narrow,
where bored men brace the walls with their backs.
Their breath filled with shouted questions from doorways,
and all doors uses a strange language, for a stranger.
I am going nowhere and embracing confusion faster.
The shadows in the winding lanes made a locust sound,
made silence surround the clack of  footsteps.
I’m out of one ghetto …