another day
a series of tiny canvases,
each painted
with a single word,
arrive on the doorstep
this morning.
i place one artwork
on each fingertip,
there are seven in
total.
[another
day
bleeds
inertia
between
the
sheets]
my quickly clenched fist
destroys the
prophecy
words lay scattered
before the house
like newspapers.
each painted
with a single word,
arrive on the doorstep
this morning.
i place one artwork
on each fingertip,
there are seven in
total.
[another
day
bleeds
inertia
between
the
sheets]
my quickly clenched fist
destroys the
prophecy
words lay scattered
before the house
like newspapers.
2 Comments:
well. all of a sudden i can see blogger from china. this indecisiveness on the part of the chinese internet police has one upside: now that i visit, i have a lot of your lovely poetry to read. it improves the quality of one's life, i think, having a friend who writes consistently good poetry. i even laughed out loud, this time: poetry with a sense of humour? even better!
by the way - i'm aware of the fact that i whisked away a copy of your final piece from last year and never spoke to you about it. i dumped it to my hard-drive and watched it in HK and here again. but i need to look at it one more time, i think.
my god, there is a lot of water falling from the sky here. and serious fury being unleashed. must go, fear of electrocution.
i heard scraps about your travels from sunanda - sounded kind of intense.
well.
how lovely to hear from you, t.
it improves the quality of my life to read your thoughtful ruminations on everything from dumplings to politics.
it makes you seem not so far away.
don't get electrocuted. i'd miss you.
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