What Li Po Would Have Said of Jackie Chan Movies

its prey. Along the stem of a rose, a praying mantis
waiting for its victim. A silkworm threading a nest

in all the trees on a cool, foggy morning, their breath
some ancient language of spirits. This charm

found only in ladybugs, their orange blush
against the wisteria blossoms. Allow

thoughts of frangipani, the hibiscus ecstasy, enough rice wine
to quench our thirst, sure, but also put us to sleep

so we can dream of all this sacred action, how bodies
still themselves against our rising sorrows. Raise

your cup, toast the moon, the silver screen, for such
a man comes only once in a lifetime, this poet

of swift kicks. A smile like a blue setting sun.

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