Skip to content

Wei Tai Ting-IV

Kitano Tenmangu




Cycling foreign streets

Movement rings clear

The bell in our ears


Sakura buds lie

Unawakened, but plum

Furiously blooms


On black bone

White petals, the branches

Brushstrokes on paper


Spelling out

Your name’s sweet scent

Carried in wind


Across closed screens

And sleepy students

The flow of pebbles


Circling ripples

Round centres of rock

Your wheels clack


Behind pine trees

Branching back I tease

All ways inward