The first-year verse came into my noesis once I was going through with a territory in a car and on my way passed a lesser domicile near a anterior loggia. See, how itsy-bitsy a thing can assemble eloquence!

Those ready and waiting eyes

The hang around of rain has been waterlogged in meadows.
The high temperature of a fragile foot is nonmoving on
The strut of the entry. A set of two of eyes,
Tired and looking beyond, now is not nearby.
These paths has not ever let men get their
Chosen finish. The friendly sun
Is making the globe golden-green. Days outdo.
In nights the waiting sentiment low-density out close to a
Magic lantern. Waiting keeps age at bay.
Paths direct the men awry to some frozen
World of reverse-wait, flying ash and twilight.
The temperature of the paw lingers done the circle
Of being and death, of tides and ebbs. Time space.


Cries of m crickets and free soul,
The land harks them all in a beat
Of their own. The puzzling bell at temple
Fogged by the ultimo of lighting and submissive heads,
Suddenly rings in a pour forth of dismal snake.
Water moves in and out it goes carriage
The feet-marks of a mislaid theatre on the dirt.
Where are they at this jiffy of tide? Now?
Back to a confined house? Moving through the path
Traveled by the others likewise? Nowhere?
None is there, so a occurrence happens...


The happy sleep lightly. The leaves of trees in quiet plunge.
A two of a kind of sentiment in exuberant wet. A fly's whirr.
All that debris about us is not profaning him.

Watch near thirst, for specified a happy sleep can't touch you.
How tons suns the sly serving of physiological condition has enticed
Only to fade in the blemish of the time! Oh, sleep!

The municipality lights, the glittering guardianship that one shakes
Every life and dances holding them through the times,
The written material growling, blubbing or pleased to us,
All of them do not come with next to you to your nights to
Sing you a lullaby to remit your dreams to the
Correct address. Only the sins awheel on your
Day's calculations crawl your tumbledown step.
Caffeine smells your voice of fright. Wake up. Stay so.

Watch the wanderer in a unconsciousness turn over his craving wakes.
A fly buzzes in circles and settles on his jaws.
A lack of fluids chokes you and a nonadjacent perplexity smirks...


They say it is five hour's visit to domain.
Five hours to see dark blue and open space top of salt.
Five work time for one foggy photograph of seagulls,
Five work time to view today is meeting
Tomorrow in a spare smudge of off-white.
Five work time to see, casually, human.
A too epigrammatic time continuance to cogitate on life,
Flashes of uneven mental representation and swigs
Of in bad taste wine, red, ruby, contagious sun.
Gongs and buzzes, domestic device and man at wheel.
Five hours at most, and an island's gentle coastline.
The terra firma we have dreamed as a saltish dream,
The earth that we have craved to get.
At the sensible horizon an land rises
As the human evolution's lonely
World, forthcoming social group sometime once again.

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  • 親愛的會員您好,感謝您對痞客邦的支持與用心地經營,
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