YANG CHU’S POEMS 190
The alchemist
In his heavy quarter-moons
And comets costume
Does not break the glass
When the elixir
Did not become gold,
But marvels
At the transformation
He has never seen before,
It is a color he has never seen before.
What happened was not expected.
It told him something he did not know.
The alchemists
Removed his cone-shaped hat
And removed his old head.
He now had a new head,
He would go bare-headed.
He felt the air touch his hair,
The sensation was new.
His awareness was expanded.
He began to hear the music
Of panpipes.
He threw all his alchemical books
Into the trash,
Threw off his alchemical costume,
And ran
Towards the forest.
Duane Locke
Posted over on The Houston Literary Review
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