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To Li Po from Tu Fu（《杜甫致李白》）

Milord, how beautifully you write!
May I sleep with you tonight?
Till I flag, or when you wilt,
we'll roll up, drunken, in one quilt.

In our poems, we forbear
To write of kleenex or long hair
Or how the one
may fuck the other.
We're serious artists, aren't we, brother?

In our poems, oceans heave
like our stomachs,when we leave
Late at night
the fourteenth bar,
I, your meteor, you, my star.

When autumn comes,
like thistledown,
We'll still be floating thru the town
Wildly singing
in the haze,
I, past saving, you, past praise.