AT THE LAUNDERMAT, READING WANG WEI'S "PASSING THE TEMPLE OF TEEMING FRAGRANCE"

Not wandering on cloud peaks
or through ancient, pathless forests,
as easy here to pass it by,
watching the comforter whirl
in the porthole of the commercial machine.
As hard to hear the temple bell
in the multidryer hum.
As easy, just as easy, to sit
and pacify the poison dragon of the heart