12feb2014
The Second Departing
(after William Butler
Going, going away in an ever retreating bay
The ebb starts below a quickened sun setting
People swarm here, watching, picking, fighting
Over the fishes, shrimps, crabs, shells, weeds
All left stranded, struggling for waters on the beach
They do not care if darkness stalks right behind
Their shadows, rolling like a tide upon their souls
They care only about the benefits they can gather
The sea produce they can trade with one another
Surely some ignorance is still in proper place
Surely the second departing is taking place
The Second Departing! The very idea stirs in the minds
A whole flock of crows beating their darkening wings
Flapping into the narrow skies of the prolonged history
It’s these crows, these very unidentifiable black birds
That are driving the light beyond the horizon, inner or outer
(Where they have found God as a redundant re-creation
When they believe they are the right gods for themselves)
Seeking Side by
Side: A One-Act Play Poem
-- While my mind tries to find a way out of the
labyrinth walled with thick wishes, my body wanders around like a headless fly
in the vast Gobi , another labyrinth,
unwalled...
A [With a mask and an unopened bag for which
she tries to find something.] Have you been here before?
B [With a mask.] Oh, no! This is the
first and last time I am here.
A Many others have
been trying to find it under the tree. Are you here looking for it too?
B Oh, no! What is
it that they were looking for? Did they find it? [Tries to show love to A but is ignored.]
A Who knows?! [Puts off her mask and tries to find
something.]
B You seem to be
looking for something as well?
A [Puts on her mask again.] Oh, no!
Sorry, I got to go now. [Puts off her
mask and walks out of the tree shade.]
B [Takes off his mask and tries to find
something under the tree shade.]
C Hi there! Nice
day...are you looking for someone or something?
B [With his mask on again.] Oh, no! How
do you know that I am looking for someone or something?
C How do you know
that I do not know you are not looking for someone or something?
B I suppose not. [Exits and takes off his mask.]
C [Takes off his mask and tries desperately
to find something.]
A [Enters with her mask on and tries to find
something] What are you busying looking for?
C [Quickly put his mask back on.] Oh, n--
nothing. I am just trying to pretend to be looking for something.
A Why are you
doing that?
C Why do you want
to know why I want to do that?
B [Enters as he puts on his mask.] What
are you two looking for?
A+C Nothing!
B Then, give me a
break. [Dies looking for something but
never finds it.]
A+C [Try side by side to find something under
the tree shade as it becomes increasingly darker.]
Birdkeeping:
Another One-Act Play Poem
scene i
A [in front of a detached house, trying to repair
his fence while talking to himself]: Fucking hell, why does there have to
be winds all the time? Without these wicked winds I would never have to worry
about my fence, and the whole universe would have been much more peaceful.
B [passing by, with a bunch of empty birdcages
behind his shoulder]: A nice day to do some repairing, eh? You know you’ve
got a pretty solid house here.
A: Yeah, but it
has cost me a lifetime, though, and I can never pay off my mortgage.
B: You know what I
would do? I would hung a bird cage and keep it open. They say it will make you
feel happy at least.
A: Really?! Wish
to have one then.
B [giving one of his empty birdcages to A]:
Here happens to be one for you. Happy or not happy, you will keep a bird.
A [taking over the cage and trying to hung it
somewhere]: How come? But we’ll wait and see! [aside] Me to keep a fool bird in this cage? No way!
scene ii
A [receiving a guest in his living room]:
So, how’s everything going, pal?
C [looking at the bird cage]: When did you
begin to have a bird? What’s happened to your bird?
A: My bird? oh, I
never keep a bird, but just …
C: ?
scene iii
A: [talking to himself before trying to answer a
phone call]: Me to keep a bird? No way!
D: [at the other end of the phone]: I almost
forget to say I am sorry for your late birdie, but didn’t you take good care of
it? Perhaps you did not know how to keep a tender songster to begin with? I’ll
lend you many really helpful books; perhaps I can give you some good tips right
now?
A: Oh no! I never
keep a bird except…
D: Come on, and
cheer up! A bird is just a bird.
scene iv
A [in front of his house, trying to repair his
fence again while talking to himself]: Dogfart, why does there have to be
wicked winds so often? Without them I would never have to worry about my fence,
and the whole universe could have been much more peaceful.
E [trying to sell a new product to A]: This
time I remember bringing a beautiful bird as a little present to you. Here you
go [putting a pink parrot into the cage].
A: Thanks very
much, but…
E: Don’t mention
it. This bird belongs just as much to your cage as your cage to this bird.
scene v
A [standing in the middle of his living room
and yelling loudly at the parrot in the cage]: Me be a bird in cage? Oh no,
me keep a bird in cage? N--
[the parrot mimicking]:
mi-bi-bir-din-kei; mi-ki-pir-din-kei; mi-bi-bir-din-kei; mi-ki-pir-din-kei…
Grape Eaters: A
Play Poem
scene i
A:
Would like to try some of these grapes? I grew em!
B:
Sure! [eating grapes slowly as if during
a test] Were you saying you grew them?
A:
Yep! How do you like em?
B:
Very sweet and juicy. In fact, tastier than any other stuff I’ve eaten. Can we
sign
something like a sole agency agreement. This way, I can sell them for
you?
A:
Oh, forget it. It is just an experiment in my own garden.
scene ii
A:
Try some of these! You would probably like em.
C:
Yummy! Not bad at all! You grew them?
A:
Yeah. This is a new species I have just developed.
C:
Really? How about mass growing your grapes? I will finance your expansion, I
mean, joint venture of some kind?
A:
Gosh, I have never given a thought to that!
scene iii
A:
Have some more of my grapes, Mr. Alderman!
D:
Why not! It tastes terrific!
A:
But you do not seem to like em as much as yesterday?
D:
Did I? No, I remember saying I love your wonderful grapes. Is there anything I
can do for you, to promote your grapes, for instance?
A:
Come on! I did not offer em to you for that!
scene iv
A:
Hi, you couple look kind of weird today. Is there anything wrong?
E+F:
Your grapes!
A:
My grapes?
E:
Since my wife had a taste of your stuff the other day, she has been acting
strange. She fights with me for nothing, she talks nonsense to herself, she….
A:
What is wrong then? Is she ill, have you seen a doctor?
F:
I love what you said to me when you offered us your grapes.
A:
What did I say? How about my grapes?
E:
Were you trying to seduce my wife, or did you put some chemicals into the
grapes?
A:
Aren’t you kidding me, Sir!
scene v
A:
Help yourself with more of my grapes.
G:
Thank God! They are so delicious!
A:
If you really like em, take as many as you can!
G:
Are you serious? You are giving a free lunch or something? Are you a
philanthropist?
A:
Not really. But do you or do you not like these grapes?
G [taking off his pants and trying to put as many
grapes as possible into them]: …
A [aside]: I wonder if there is anyone who does like my poor
grapes at all?!
Human Culture
when i wake up
and open my eyes
i see all my
dreams
bounced back from the frames
when i take a
shower
and start to sing
i taste my song
tart
behind the blurring curtain
when i strive to
step
out of my humble house
i feel fences
quarreling hard
in
the whole neighborhood
when i visit
around and
do some blind sightseeing
i smell blood
stained
along the castle foot
finally i flee
from this world
and hide myself far away
i still seem to
hear
the glaring cries from the great wall
delicately hung is
this earth
a bluish cage in the universe
In the Bog
As he tries to
pull up
His left foot
His right foot
gets
Bogged down deeper
Then he has to
pull up
His right foot
As his left foot
gets
Bogged down in turn
So he wades along
As his twisted figure
Signs its shadow
On the swamp of time
Human History
one seventy
and six or seven
plus
thirty four
twenty nine
and thirty five
approximately
equals
three and
indefinitely more
times
(point six one
eight?)
for the whole
world
uncertain
1435 mm: The Width
of the World
rather than god-ruled
or science-decided
this cold
distance
between the bloody
wheels
of an ancient
roman chariot
toppled down long ago
on a forgotten
English road
with its ruts still clearcut
is actually
man-made
to rift off the two rivaling rails
laid now to measure every nation
as they tightly
tie
the whole human civilization
into an open cage
The Progress of
Human Civilization
In a circle, a
crowded cave
With a fire
dancing
Wildly at the
center
We used to gather
together
Yelling, agitating
or meditating
In one another’s warm shadow
Our bodies and
souls naked alike
Although we were
all strangers
Now at the center,
my cool and cozy room
With a screen
blinking coldly before me
I sit, being
alone, a lonely being
Confused,
confounded or impressed
By the struggling
of shapes and sounds
Edited by an
invisible hand
At the other end
of the line
All packed and
privatized
In a box of tubes
and wires
Man’s Mutation
(for George Lai Yuan and other
e.generation youths)
dear god, i often
wonder
in bitter
sweetness
or sweet
bitterness
whether i or my
first home computer
is the real father
of my son
who i well
remember
was not conceived
in a chip
but seemed to have
been delivered
at the wrong
website
breastfed at chat
rooms
brought up in a
silver cyber space
as he just refuses
to grow
into a full human
being
like myself, my
father
or my father's
father
i know he is not
really a monster
but only a cold
blooded hybrid
between my high
mind and high tech
so forever lost in
virtual reality
that no birth day
celebrations
are loud enough to
wake him up
from his quasi
hibernation
on the little
mouse pad
Glass Safe
There is a time
When engineers
Will make chips
out of people’s spirits
As a hobby
Someone I used to
know returns from then
I have seen her
recently
But she knows me
no more
Even after I told
her who I am
“The spirits are
installed onto various
Motherboards,” she
explained
“They are all
transparent
Kept in the same
big glass safe.
But no one knows
how to open it from within
Or whose spirits
are whose.”
The Unborn
The unborn are
wildly shuffling among us, I believe
As we try to catch
a plane or prepare a lunch
They are jumping,
hopping, tripping like wantons
While they remain
invisible even to ghosts
If they had been
born, they would have proved better
Making all the
prize winners in the world feel shamed
If only they had a
chance to grow in broad daylight
They could have
regrouped us all between hell and heaven
All this time,
they are demonstrating, protesting against us
Their crowds
snowballing, their shouts never heard
On the Recycling
Day
One neighbor took
out a blue box
Full of cat skulls
and dog legs
Rather than glass
or plastic bottles
Another carries
out a yellow bag
Containing human
bones, mostly children’s
Instead of
magazines or paper products
A third pushed out
a green bin
Filled with failed
evils and devils
Where there should
be leaves and twigs
Behind every house
in a neighboring back alley
The garbage truck
is placing a big time bomb
The Peril of
Watching Too Much TV News
(for Adrian Mitchell)
If you watch too
much tv about what is going on beyond your living room
You go quite mad
That’s what marco polo used to say every time he saw
someone
Watching the big
well-washed mouth yabaaing in front of a bigger camera
All their
reporters and editors, none of them a true fly on the wall
With their freaky
bias and nancy
Selecting and
shuffling words and pictures about evil soviets
Demon chinese,
civilized lamas, angel-like looters
Humans biting
dogs, johns’ caps on jills’ heads, and the deer called a horned horse
All of em juggled
and tripping over one another in your little fragile brain box
Well, it’s a bit like unleashing a whole century’s illusions out of the corral
To stampede right
over your ears and eyes
All those colored
or uncolored lies
Whirling around
inside your poor skull
Beating up storms
of yellow dust
So overwhelming
you cannot see or hear with your own senses
The real other
world which is just the real other world
They claim to be
the bars helping cage the most ferocious among us
Yet they are more
ferocious than the crowned lion preying around in the jungle
Listen – what I say is
If you believe
everything bbc or cnn reports about their edited worlds
You go quite mad
The Statue at the City Square
In a powerful
whirlwind of whims
All shapes and
shadows are swept away
Together with
blood-veined autumn leaves
Erasing each human
foot print
Mirthfully as if
in a childish game
You are the only
one left here and now
Still upholding
your marble-based ism
This Busy Life
what would our life be if, full of desire
we can from our own hearts all retire
we can from our own hearts all retire
stop counting every shining rusty coin we
could make
or selling our dignity, freedom or something even fake
or selling our dignity, freedom or something even fake
stop trying to have sex with someone ideal
or to kiss, and talk dirty with someone real
or to kiss, and talk dirty with someone real
stop gathering fame like picking every
fallen pine cone
or seeking the autograph from someone better known
or seeking the autograph from someone better known
stop pursuing the power to influence others
or building the authority belonging to fathers
or building the authority belonging to fathers
stop looking for bigger houses, richer
foods, and more fashionable clothing
or getting newer hardware or fancier cars even when there's nowhere going
or getting newer hardware or fancier cars even when there's nowhere going
stop pleading Jesus, Buddha, or Ala
or building heaven with earthly prayers said only to survive
or building heaven with earthly prayers said only to survive
Class 761, Shanghai
So you are the second one
From the middle in the first standing row
In a world of black and white
Is this the girl squatting in the front
Who you might have pursued hard
But your pride and prejudice prevented you
The tall and handsome guy from a high-class family
Who suspected your poverty had made you a thief
Before he lost and found his fancy watch in the dorm
And your make-do friend is the third one
From the left in the second standing row, the nice guy
Who had a really hard time passing every single test
Wait, there is more to it –
Who is the guy that has become the vice president of Citigroup
And who is the girl that died a miser-multimillionaire in Seattle
What’s happened to the character library building behind all of you
Did they really convert it into a brilliantly decorated hotel
To accommodate your travelling alumni, rich or famous?
Towards a Broader
Highway
Is it an old
bumpkin again
Driving a jalopy
ford pick up
Unable to speed up
on a highway
Or some mrs
billionaire sitting behind the wheel
Of a s8000 mecedez
Too careful with her
fancy life
Somewhere in the
front?
Surely there is no
accident
No police patrol
or even a red light
You fuck, you dumb
shit, why do you
Have to drive so
stupid slow
On such a grey
Saturday evening?
You dumb shit, you
shouldn’t do this, people
eager to press
horns on you, to zigzag, to
Switch on and off
their highbeams to protest
Against you
originating such snail traffic
All of us have to
drive at this speed you set
Even tho a red toyota
A blue mac to have
a good beer all by himself
And a white shadow
to meet her death by the weekend
You fuck, blocking
this long single-laned traffic
If only I were
driving a crazy tank or a frenzy bulldozer
So I can crash
your stupid soul, crush your snail car
And clear the way to my destiny in the
twilight
Worldly Affairs
(1): Today’s Special
Appetite:
North Korean
pickle soup
Iranian hard nuts
Venezuelan sour
coffee
Main Courses:
American democracy
steamed with socialism
Chinese communism
fried with free market
Deserts:
Sushi with
Oettinger
Curry with
Brigadeiros
Fortune Cookie
Slip Reads: Libya
Naming a Nation
At birth, we were given pet names
In school, we begin to have formal names
For some fame, we choose our own style
names
Among friends and relatives, we are known
by our nicknames
In the literate world, we use our hao or pen names
While we try naming ourselves with all
glory and dignity
Foreign barbarians give us unnamed names:
Mangis, Chinks, Chinamen, Chinkies
Chinoiseries, Nuocs, Shina, Chinees
Ching Chong, Coolies
Even blue and grey ants
And so they call us names
In open defiance against Confucius
Our master teacher, our saint, our saga,
our literary god
(O poor guy!) ever so obsessed with the
Chinese idea:
A proper name for a proper
personality
Worldly Affairs
(2): A Chinese Portrait
Freedom or no
freedom
Democracy or no
democracy
Human rights or no
human rights
That’s never the
question
But give me face
Big face, full
face, thick face
In front of all others
And
I
Will
Give
You
My
Soul
Behind their backs
Worldly Affairs
(3): The Canadian Comedy
in London
in New York
we try to have
American economy
British politics,
French culture
yet we are somehow
lost in British economy
French politics,
and American culture
one reason is we
only look skookum
another is too
proud of our face off
our blue line, and
especially our puck
more important
perhaps, we pronounce z as zed
rather than zee,
eh?
In Defense of Canadian Mediocrity
Just as a tree will be cut down once it tops over all others, so will a
hog be slaughtered when it becomes the fattest in the pen. - Chinese Proverb
The tallest, the fattest
The most thickly-feathered
Have all migrated
To a much greener pasture
Or a warmer climate
Where they would
Never frozen to death
Like an arctic rock
By following the rule
Of the golden mean
We retain our Canadian-ness
In a small mosaic
Where each line looks
Visible though it may
Lead to nowhere
Rather than in a big melting pot
Where all bubbles are bound to burst
Worldly Affairs (4):
The Girl Who Danced with Democracy* - A French Episode
(for Arian Mitchell)
It was the same
old story
Story of one meets
many
Yes the same old
story
Story of one meets
many
The one is
disabled
While the many
enjoyed all the powers and freedoms
Like a sampan
Riding on a stormy
sea
Against foams of
prejudiced justice
Foams of jealous
pride
Foams of fearful
composure
Foams of hateful
fraternity
Foams of selfish
altruism
And foams of foams
of ignorant knowledge
She was edging
forward
Inch by inch
On a little
wheelchair
Under breaking
waves of quasi-lamas or lama supporters
Waves of frenzy
political correctors
Waves of
ill-focused professional cameras
And waves of waves
of impulsive pinchers and grabbers
You remember how
we watched her
Struggling like a
strong coral tree
And we knew for
that moment
She was more
noble-minded than ever we would be
A Chinese girl
carried the Olympic flame in Paris
The cradle and
capital of our most advanced civilization
Where she danced
with democracy
*As the 3rd torch bearer for the
Beijing 2008 Summer Olympics, Jin Jing was physically assaulted during the
relay in France
Worldly Affairs (5):
A Japanese Sketch
An adored, doomed
snake
Not only wants to
swallow the elephant
But also tries to
bite
At the eagle
flying high in the sky
The bear swimming
far in the northern sea
And the dragon
dreaming deep in its sleep
Worldly Affairs
(6): A Zeugma Sketch of Uncle Sam
Every time you
stage a play or an election in your own yard
You cannot wait to
shake hands with your audiences and their wealth
No matter whether
it is the passage of a new bill or an old dilemma
You excel
particularly at manipulating public will and private property
With your weeping
eyes and hands
You keep waging
war and peace far beyond your boundaries
While you kill
non-Americans and their hope together
To turn all others
and othernesses into biblical dust
More often than
not, you selfish intentions prove
Much more
destructive than your smart bombs
You invisible
fighter jets strike far farther
Than your visible
arms of peace effort
You are simply too
great for a small criticism
Too super-powerful
for a weak opposition
Too democratic for
a totalitarian competition
And too
single-minded for a double standard
One More
Difference
Sh - listen, the
TV guys are now
Talking about
Iranians
North Koreans
Russians, even
Chinese
As if they were
not barbarians
As if they were
not demons
So don’t say again
There is no progress
in our American civilization
Warning America
This is the
2nd battlefield rule for American GIs: “Don’t fuck with the local,
or you’ll be fucked”
You used to be the
hope of the human kind
You used to lead our
modern civilization
You used to be
seen as a Christ-like hero
You used to stand
for freedom, democracy, justice and equality
But ever since you
dropped that big boy of yours
Over Hiroshima
Thus having had
your fullest taste of sweet blood and bitter victory
You have been
fucking around
Yes, you have been
fucking around all the time
Across the table
and the globe alike
Treating all
others and othernesses as Hyenas
Tricking the
strong
Bullying the weak
Setting fire in
every yard you can find
Playing the big
boss in front of your friends, neighbors, followers, admirers
And behaving like
a wicked villain behind your rivals and the unsubjugated
Wherever you have
been
You leave it in a
filthy mess
Like a startled
rapist
Forgetting even to
pull up
Your own pants
As you keep
fucking around, America
And enjoying all
the thrills of
Being the only
superman for the moment
Your friends’
grudges are growing behind your back
Your victims are
grinding their teeth at night
You admirers are
getting half-hearted on a daily basis
Until the weak
become strong
Until the east
wind depresses the west wind
Until the road
finally turns around the mountain if not otherwise
You will then have
to pay all the debts
To those you have
been borrowing from
With insults and
injuries
Even though you
have no such intention
If you keep
fucking around like this, America
You’ll be fucked
by the whole world one day
Sooner or later
Fuck Off, You America
You believe you
are the savior of the human world
While you are the
destroyer of most living civilizations
You say you
represent the biggest peace-keeping force on earth
While you are the
most shameful and shameless trouble-maker
You act as if you
are a highly respectable cop
While you behave
like a despiteful criminal
You stand out among
all nations
While you try to
keep everyone else down
You claim to
uphold freedom, democracy and human rights
While you treat
all other fellow beings worse than animals
You feel proud of
the way you have been able to live
While you forget your
lifestyle is based on the suffering of all others
You enjoy setting
fire in everyone else’s yard in broad daylight
While you prohibit
all others from lighting a lamp at midnight
You encourage your
own people to be unique or different
While you force
all others to convert to your tastes
You never stop
throwing stones at others’ windows
While you yourself
live in a big glass house
You seldom
hesitate to strike against anyone you dislike
While you are always
ready to duck down before the valiant
You call yourself
the greatest leader of humanity
While you are
nothing but just a new member of our community
You allege your economy
and high tech have made the world more livable
While the world
might well have been a more peaceful planet without you
Fuck off, you America
Civilization
Eat MacDonald’s or Kentucky Chicken
Drink Coca Cola or Pepsi
Listen to Jazz or Rock n’ Roll
Smoke Kent or Marlboro
Watch CNN or Hollywood
Wear blue jeans or polos
Drive a GM or Ford
Invest in derivatives rather than in
properties
Go online with an IBM or Apple
Read New York Times or Great Gatsby
Play football or baseball
Microsoft all your Intel hardware
Talk aloud about freedom, democracy, human
rights
Support the strike against devilish
Iranians
Evil North Koreans, demon Mainland Chinese
Most important: vote while you google,
google while you vote
And you will become an American
A political correct member of the truly
civilized world
Quasi Americans, welcome aboard
We Are All Being Watched
Hanging above the horizon
Or rather, below the thin borderline
Between light and darkness
Are billions of human skulls
Like so many lanterns, stars
Simply too far to be noticed
Each emitting no more light
Nor any more darkness
Nor any vision held there
But each is full of holes
Like so many eyes, minds
That used to contain thought
They are all looking down upon us
Speechless, as if observing
Snorting
Flying between sea and sky
Between day and night
Amid heavenly or oceanic blue
I lost all my references
To any timed space
Or a localized time
Except the non-stop snorting
Of a stranger neighbor
Then, beyond the snorts rising here
And more glooming there
I see tigers, lions, leopards
And other kinds of hanger-throated predators
Darting out of every passenger’s heart
Running amuck around us
As if released from a huge cage
As if in a dreamland
Upgraded Groupings
of Animals
A pod of turtles
A goggle of swans
A flock of tigers
A bevy of ducks
A clutter of mice
A cast of snakes
A murder of
peacocks
And a pride of humans
Steeper See-Saw
(for John Hollander)
The higher the
income, the lower the morals
The taller the
building, the shorter the attention span
The bigger the
house, the smaller the family
The more wealth,
the less joy
The more
conveniences, the less leisure
The more
knowledge, the less judgment
The more medicine,
the less health
The more
protection, the less security
The faster the
transportation, the slower the communication
The closer the
network, the looser the relationships
The cleaner the
environment, the dirtier the mind
The wider the
highway, the narrower the perspective
Self-ABuse
The man chops off
his own head
And tries to
barbecue it with human hair
In the
slaughtering square
The woman cuts
open her own chest
Takes out her
heart and uses it
Like a gas pump
To add all her
blood to the fire
While the volcano
is vomiting violently
Its lava smashing
onto every creature
Running around
wildly
At Fraser River
Park
One dog is chasing
a crazy vampire
Another jumping high
to catch a flying heart
A third licking at
the wound of a deformed cat
While two are
dancing with ghosts as if in a quartet
Three biting at
their owner’s shoulders
Four howling
loudly towards the bleeding sun
Five sniffing
around baby limbs scattered along a ditch
Six listening
attentively to the roars of an unseen volcano
Seven shaking a
dragon’s saliva violently off their bodies
As more are
driving humans and hyenas alike
Into the river, a
river full of dog shit
The Tree Spirits
No doubt, they never
knew when, how
Or why they were
doomed
The previous
generation of earthlings
Have long
disappeared, tracelessly
Except for some
thinning memories
Hidden in earth’s
heart, or drifting
In a corner of an
unknown world
But we are
different: we make
Metals and
plastics besides books
To survive the
judgment day
Land collapses,
ice ages, nuclear wars
Or alien strikes,
although they may eventually
Weather away with
the sun
Then will come a
monstrous ant
Followed by swarms
of tree spirits
On the second day,
the ant gives them all shapes
On the third, the
spirits begin their earthy lives
On the forth, the
ant flies into the outer space
To prevent evil
from returning to earth
On the land used
to be tree stumps
Debris of all
man-made products
There are now only
trees growing
Growing silently
in the moonlight
Above deeply
buried human souls
Tall Tale Newly
Told
As peach flowers
fell like a brilliant snow
From the back lane
to the wood did I go
Listening to the
stream sing without a mouth
I forgot to return
where is my monster house
The water flew
from the mountain to the sea
As if it had
nothing whatsoever to say to me
But its song
always held my heart tight
Thus the night
would give me no fright
I sang with the
stream, whose song let me go
I am home again, and
find every soul so low
Clothing
All creatures are naked
Except humans
And humans only
Wearing glass fiber
If not polyester
Silk
If not flax
Furs
If not fig leaves
Themselves always clad
By shade, by shame
The clothing species
Never showing their naked selfhoods
All creatures are naked
Except humans
And humans only
Wearing glass fiber
If not polyester
Silk
If not flax
Furs
If not fig leaves
Themselves always clad
By shade, by shame
The clothing species
Never showing their naked selfhoods
Ever since that
first bite at an unripe apple
The Only
Difference
In hell, the food
is the same
Exactly the same
ladle, with a meter-long handle
Each trying to use
it to feed himself
Yet each suffering
from more hunger
In heaven, the
food is the same
Exactly the same
ladle, with a meter-long handle
Each trying to use
it to feed another
So each getting
everything he wants
Charon
You may well hate him
But you cannot help feeling envious-
That business of carrying the diseased
Across the River Styx is ever so
prosperous
The only monopoly in the entire universe
That has a market share
Larger than the market itself
Daydreaming, on this side
Of the river, how you might wish
To be an entrepreneur like Charon
A success American dreamer
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