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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 8, Number 4, December 2014

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Iris Lee
Brooklyn, New York, USA


Asian Wing at The Met

I'm trying to conjure up a Chinese painted scroll, but how much better it would be to stand in front of an actual one at the Metropolitan Museum's Asian Wing, to scribble phrases in my tiny notebook and retire to a bench, to cram my butt between those of two voluble old friends, and begin a couplet inspired by the painting and its untranslated, and hence pure art, calligraphy. But I'm not there; I'm here in my pajamas waiting for snow, suffering from back pain, and not anticipating a trip to the Met for some time, unless there are miracle cures for weather and spines; and I can always Google myself into almost any museum in the world and spend the morning gazing at as many Chinese scroll paintings as I want.

heavy mists
rain-blackened peaks
rise in silence

beneath a bird-winged sky
tiny monks in rain
cross a wooden bridge

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