of the city

Eye motion 

the horizon swells with rawness
a white cumulous beehive,
my thoughts circle the distance
like black heavy flies,
the hairs of time
stroking my mind
like the drunken summer of an engine;
the horizon swells with pink oil
all the trees are horses
with green galloping flowers as their
heads,
my joy is the shy protruding
obnubilation
frozen in the sky like a gray cusp of moon

I am the city
with the touch as long as the empty
avenues;
my eyes strange
as the streetlight’s gloom.

Nihilistic Poetry

Bamboo

 Even though it is immeasurable
       My prison is still tight as skin
but my horizons wide as silences

Although it is incomprehensible
       The moment is clear as pain
but the mountain inside cold as ash

Since I have known only one
       Many drops fall as from bloodshed
but the fragile division was born as orphan

Nonetheless I was lover of the loneliest desert
       Counting the walls that serve as mistakes
but swallowed all the scriptures that read as noise

Thus, metaphorical speaking aside
       The clouds raised thoughts as mothers
but motion now seems so still as bamboo

 

Return to Beyond Language

City Walls

I have abandoned everything
  like a monk with weary eyes
I am a hermit within the city walls
Tall towers of light are only columns of dreams
I have fled from the horizon
            to study the core
I am tired of all the signs –
  In a falling leaf
        the whole universe is summarized.
Don’t wake me up!
Let me sleep in my rich delusions
   Let me be like dust
        that never had a name
            it never spoke a word.