Excerpt from The Charnel Rose: Senlin a Biography, and Other Poems
His Dark Origins
Senlin sits before us, and we see him...
He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him...
Is he small, with reddish hair,
Does he light his pipe with a meditative stare,
And a pointed flame reflected in both eyes?
Is he sad and happy and foolish and wise?...
Did no one see him enter the doors of the city,
Looking about him at roofs and trees and skies?...
I stepped from a cloud, he says, as evening fell,
I walked on the sound of a bell;
I ran with winged heels along a gust;
Or is it true that I laughed and sprang from the dust?...
Has no one, in a great autumnal forest,
When the wind bares the trees with mournful tone,
Heard the sad horn of Senlin slowly blown?...
Has no one, on a mountain in the spring,
Heard Senlin sing?
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