Between the summer haze
and life upside-down.
The sky’s tongue
steals the conversation.
From morning to evening
the temple bell sinks
to the bottom of the sea.
And what is left of life
drifts onto a shredded shore.
Is this how you want things to be?
​

In the shadows of masks,
tests and social distancing?
Surrounded by a fear of
sub-health, quarantine and death.
My feet are no longer
accustomed to grass.
And the sun flashes wildly
through the few cracks in the sky.
With all its urgent future.
And what of love?
That has once again burst in on me.
The time of distance
cannot keep this away.
Like a stray cat,
it will return soon enough.
And I will see my love
as a creature of light.
Her eyes, her lips, her breasts
conducting an orchestra of fire.
And I will listen, oh I will listen
over and over again.

You say a cold face
is an infected face.
But I smile to show.
And wait patiently in line
just like everybody else.
Writing on the absurd,
I have an armada of words.
Much more than the
‘The Ten Worries’ of Master Liu.
“Where are you really from?
You asked me.
I think I will write
myself into an oblivion.
And make soup and tea
to heal my body.

I remember a time when
school children ran free.
And banged on their books.
Because the wolf and the fox
only appeared on the pages.
Saintly warriors danced
around the backstreets.
Too drunk to remember
who scored first.
And immortality
seemed a good thing.
Do you remember?
A time of ferocious cries,
and minds less clouded.
With that dull stain of life,
nowhere to be seen.
And the limbs of
the girl next door
fulfilled all our fantasies.
All the little creatures
had a mind and a soul.
And nobody set out
to steal the stars.
Do you remember?
I remember the
gentleness of flowers.
Living again, and,
shouting, and grieving.
Then came this darkening light.
That feeds a darkening mood.
Laced with grief.
and shreds of a rising moon.
But I still remember.

With the teeth of tracks
of tears on this earth.
And the tongues of puppets
with children waiting.
It would be enough
just to watch the birds
in the sky for a while.
But I prefer the freedom to roam.
And watching her circle
the pineapple plants.
Until she turns to me.
With a sweet emotion
and that look of love and lust.
I am glad to see she is free.

Bending neither to wind or rain.
Did not my hand touch your hair?
Did not my fingers touch your lips?
And my eyes kept on
our beautiful dream.
From a chink in a half-closed sky.
A voice came from the distance.
Splitting the coldest air.
Its fragrant scent a tiny life all again.
And the world turns to look.
But we are gone.
I long for that day. ​
​

Watch how this works.
Autumn winds whisper
A world holding its breath.
Masked and shrouded in fear.
All action evaded.
The graceful ballet dancers
the only resistance.
As a life behind bars nears.

As the autumn wind blows
and the night falls.
Much of our fear is unspoken.
Only a faded photograph can hold
the world we once talked about.
A world of happy sounds and
dad’s drunken songs.
But now, decisions never come.
And all things turn on each other.
Even after night-time falls.
It’s still all too much to bear.