Saturday, July 2, 2016

Greenhouse

the green cropped the shadow of walls
the walls cropped the shadow of earth
the boors open their hearts
the boors open their doors
plunging in the red soil
the nails
scraping the soul

welcome to the new perimeter!
free-growing hoes
hang from
the frozen ceiling
mock as they swing

welcome to the new perimeter!
the earth opens its chest
the ground opens its vein
leaves shoot from their dreams
roots strangle the warmth

the boors take the green

the green cropped the shadow of men
the men cropped the shadow of earth
the boors open their guts
the boors open their brains
roots grip the red soil
roots grip the white soil
the skull opens the back door
the socket opens the front
here grows the tree

the tree of paper flowers
the boors take the green

7/2/2016 Boca

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Funerals are for the cannibals 食人族的葬礼

Funerals are for the livings not the dead
are plates embroidered
with words carved
they screams
at the blade of dark tears

prey on the dead
the imaginary parasites
like beads
driving a slanted plane

they slipped through
the throat of rituals
holding hands.

-

葬礼为生者
不为死者
是镶边的碟子
刻着字
对刀刃尖叫
黑色的泪

死的是猎物
是妄想的寄生虫
像钢珠
驾驭倾斜的平面

他们划入
仪式的喉咙
手拉着手

-
6/19/2016 博卡

Friday, February 19, 2016

The last metamorphosis

The last metamorphosis
comes new, comes slim
dwindled causes
painted a thousand roads to fragments

Memories to be
tall and toeless
dancing off the beats
now they pose
for the next movement

There are no connections
other than the repeats

There are no repeats
there is no after after
as there is no before before

The grave is for flowers
the name will be watching
the name has been

Were you asked at the beginning
would you remember the last?

The last
metamorphosis

1-27-2016 Boca
Thoughts emerged when reading Catastrophe Theory (Vladimir I. Arnold).
Thoughts about the geometry of death.


Monday, February 1, 2016

时间旅行

坐上时间的车
头晕,恶心
水跃出瓶口
时刻表上
热情相拥

两个脱轨的
一节向左
一节向右
轮子分娩出
挥舞着的手
递一封信给
轨道的回声

一边写
退回原址
另一边写
退回原址

2016-2-1 博卡

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

I and she

I was reflecting on myself, about an interesting behavior I've been observing: it is not that I don't understand what people mean by what they do or say, but I will still think and behave, in reaction, as if they truly meant well. I was thinking why, often.
Eventually I recalled the person that was half of my age and morphed into me. Let me call that person she, or he, or it, or whatever, just for convenience. She truly thought all people meant well by what they do or say to her. Actually, she didn't even think that, because there wasn't even the concept of aggression or being its target. Enlightenment finally struck: everything start to make more sense in hindsight if not all are benevolent.
I took over from there. I thought she left but she did not. She became my body, returned to Nature. I do not own her. I simply cannot avoid her, as she cannot avoid breathing without extreme efforts or consequences. She still thinks the way she used to think or not think. She talks to me, often.
If that is the case, I was mistaken. We in fact just got to be about the same age, or she is twice as old as me. Anyhow, I have been new and stupid until now. Now I can hear her better. Either I got mature enough to converse with her on an equal footing or she just learned some new language that easily gets through.
But what's I and what's she are always changing, or never change. But can I or can I not talk about the never changed?
I was writing this to answer her. Or do I mean it?

------

I was reflecting on myself,
about an interesting behavior
I've been observing:
it is not
that I don't understand
what people mean
by what they do
or say,
but I will still think
and behave,
in reaction,
as if they truly meant well.
I was thinking
why,
often.

Eventually I recalled the person
that was half of my age
and morphed into me.
Let me call that person she,
or he,
or it,
or whatever,
just for convenience.

She truly thought all people meant well
by what they do
or say to her.

Actually,
she didn't even think that,
because there wasn't even
the concept of aggression
or being its target.

Enlightenment finally struck:
everything
start to make more sense
in hindsight
if not all are benevolent.

I took over from there.
I thought she left
but she did not.
She became my body,
returned to Nature.
I do not own her.
I simply cannot avoid her,
as she cannot
avoid breathing
without extreme efforts
or consequences.

She still thinks
the way she used to
think or not think.

She talks to me,
often.

If that is the case,
I was mistaken.
We in fact just got to be
about the same age,
or she is twice as old as me.

Anyhow,
I have been new and stupid
until now.

Now
I can hear her better.
Either I got mature enough to converse with her
on an equal footing
or she
just learned some new language
that easily gets through.

But what's I
and what's she
are always changing,
or never change.
But can I or can I not
talk about the never changed?

I was writing this to answer her.
Or do I mean it?