Our lives race feebly in all directions.
A frozen piece of land at the bottom of the earth…

“I seem to hold in reserve something that makes for success

            and yet to see no worthy field for it
            and so there is this consciousness
            of a truly deep unrest.” 
takes on significance
and plots our course.
Where does this unrest originate?
“Daddy, do you like my drawing?”
A gentle wind on the water.
Stars hanging down
in a solitary night.
The moon leaps on the great river.
Du Fu, what did your life resemble?

A sand gull

floating, floating
between earth and sky. 
Du Fu, now that we read you,
what did your life resemble?

Richard Brancato

Richard Brancato has a B.A. in Psychology from the University of Massachusetts at Boston and an M.A. in English from Bridgewater State University. He teaches World History, Ancient History, Freshman English, and World Literature at a private high school in Brighton, Massachusetts. His poetry has appeared in many magazines including the Atlanta Review, The Bridge, Pennine Platform, and paperplates. When not dissecting terror with a fountain pen, he can be found hiking in the Blue Hills near his home.