Chi Biography

All night, insects and pipers sing in the marshes,
and the little wet ponds in the woods.
They sing, as if the night wouldn't be night
without their songs.
...

On the dirt road along the pond,
Several spring songs lay squashed
As I went to work yesterday.
...

Where do we draw the line
between living things that we kill,
and those we let live?
...

For the drunken giant silk moths
that flutter and crash headstrong
against the lit panes,
...

What if our dreams became reality
and our reality became dreams?

What if the wind had its way
...