. . . philosophy, classics, art, movies, literature, writing fiction and screenplays, links to my photography — and also logic, artificial intelligence, mathematics, biostatistics, medical research . . . in other words, both halves of my brain: thinking in pictures and thinking in words . . .
701-762 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
The jade stairs give birth to clear dew;
in the late night it permeates gauze stockings.
Yet she lowers the crystal curtain;
jewel pendants tinkle, and she looks to the autumn moon.
701-762 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
In some house there’s a jade flute — sound flies into the dark.
Spring winds disperse it as they arrive, filling Luoyang City
The night holds a tune — I can hear “Break a Willow Twig.”
Who wouldn’t be moved, remembering the garden at home?
701-762 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
The monk from Shu holds “Green Brocade,”
in the west, beneath E-mei Mountain.
For me — his hand scatters once —
it’s like hearing pines in ten thousand valleys.
My heart is a traveler, washing in a flowing river,
echoing sound emitted by an ice-cold bell.
Not awake to the mountain jade-green at sunset.
In the autumn dark, how many layers?
701-762 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
The northern grasses are just bright green threads;
but on eastern mulberries, green branches hang down.
Days when the lord is first eager to come back —
those are a wife’s heartbreak times.
The wind of desire and I no longer know each other;
what right has he to enter my silk gauze curtains?
701-762 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
You ask me what my idea is, staying in the green mountains?
I smile but have no reply, my heart at peace in itself.
A peach blossom on the flowing water goes into the distance;
there is another heaven and earth, not among people.
701-762 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
Preoccupied with the wine, I didn’t notice it get dark;
fallen flowers have covered my clothes.
Drunk, I stand up, and I walk to the moon stream;
the birds have gone home — and people are scarce too.
701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
In Bramble Stream, white stones jut out;
the air’s cold, so red leaves are sparse.
The mountain path is clear after rain;
It’s the sky-greenery that wets my clothes.
701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
I’m at leisure. Cassia blossoms fall, and
it’s a quiet night, solitary in the mountains.
The moon rises — and startles the mountain bird that
sings from time to time in the strong spring river.
701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
At the tree top, the hibiscus are in flower;
there on the mountain, they put forth red calyxes.
There’s a hut by the stream, silent, with no one —
richly, in profusion, they open and fall.
701-762 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
My friend said goodbye leaving the west from Yellow Crane Tower.
In the patterned mist of the third month, he goes down to Yangzhou.
His lone sail is an image far on the limit of jade green air.
I sense only the Long River’s flow, interfacing sky.
701-762 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
I love Master Meng, the first man;
like wind-flow, you hear of him everywhere.
In red youth, he gave up on the royal carriage;
white-haired now, he lies among pines — in clouds.
Intoxicated in the moon, he often hits sainthood;
bewildered among flowers, he has no work that fits a gentleman.
He’s a high mountain I’m fortunate to look up at;
to this apprentice he gives out clear scent.
691-740 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
The northern mountain is blanked in cloud;
for one who hides away, it’s pleasing — perfect.
So that we could visit each other, I’ve tried to climb high;
my heart follows along, like a wild goose, to exhaustion.
I worry because of the thin dusk that comes up,
but the clear autumn prevails and you can feel it.
It’s the hour to see village people returning;
they walk on the sand, rest at the ferry landing.
At the edge of the sky, the trees look like grass;
Near the river bank is an islet shaped like the moon.
How welcome if you met me with some wine!
We’d share, intoxicated together through the autumn festival.
691-740 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
I once wished a single hill to lie upon,
but three ways I made myself miserable, lacking money.
Being in the north was not what I wanted;
I think of my teacher in the eastern forest.
There’s yellow gold in the embers of burning cassia wood;
my firm intentions have run weak, one-by-one, with the years.
The sunlight turns to dusk and a cool wind comes;
I hear the cicada, but it only increases my grief.
691-740 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)
Trees lose their leaves, and wild geese pass toward the south;
the north wind brings cold to the river.
My home is at the bend of the Xiang River;
it’s far — on the other side of the clouds of Chu.
I gave, exhausted, tears for my village, in travel across China;
now I watch a lone sail at the edge of the sky.
Having missed the ferry, I wish there was a way to ask;
on the flat sea, dusk spreads endlessly.
I see no reason to segregate scientific and technical posts from humanistic ones. In my life, scientific concerns mix with ethical ones, and they shade into a philosophical interest in the nature of cognition and the nature of people. Doing science is as creative as writing fiction, and I get inspiration for both from the same gods.
You will find little here on current politics. I'm activist, but in causes not symptoms. Experience in martial arts shows me that the sure way to lose is reactivity; but if you stay cool and remember your training and what you're there for then you achieve goals and, when conflict is unavoidable, you fight and win. The idea of the liberal arts I was brought up in is that broad understanding of cultures and ideas gives you deeper, better goals -- making success more likely and more satisfying. Negatively, the hysteria since 9/11 shows how a country frightened and reactive can destroy itself more than an enemy can. I'm trying to contribute by changing the terms of discourse. See Hyperforum and Thoukydides. . . . As Allen Ginsberg wrote, "America, I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel."
One fact shouldn't require special mention; but -- given the nature of the society in which I've grown up and lived -- it often does: namely that I'm gay. You'll see it in some posts and in some links below. I'm proud of being gay and do not hide; more about this on the About page. Gayness is one topic among many here that interest me. The proportion of gay subject matter is shown in the "Table of Contents." Posts on gay subjects are similar to the others and reflect an aspect of my life and world.
Climate 411
Link for [marriage is so gay] t-shirt.Subscribe 
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