She was waiting for him in cream-colored dress.
A shawl covered her shoulders.
She was dreaming of making her gloomy grief
In his strong arms as senseless.

She was waiting, wrapped her naked soul
Entirely in strong fabric.
Her faith in his ardent heart was so firm.
And no one could show he was fake.

She was staring into the night darkness.
She trusted no one, only him.
She was waiting for him after the midnight.
She knew he'd not come, but was waiting for him.

Slender, motionless, breathing evenly,
She was standing like a faithful guard.
He forgot her, but she was waiting,
So senselessly faithful for heart.

Her love disappeared drop by drop
In this light cream-coloured dress.
Her slender shoulders were covered by shawl.
Her love was dissolving in silent tears.

Raving

(When one hand of mine cups a pool of tears)


A crimson thread descends from the sky, piercing my fingertips
Blood flows towards the earth, crawling fiercely over my hand
When one hand of mine cups a pool of blood
Tears rise from the soil, flooding over half my chest
Tears flow towards the sky, stubbornly flowing backward on my face

When I clasp my hands together, even heaven and earth tremble
Yet this trembling world is utterly empty of people

I seem to be a person, I seem to be a flower
My petals are soft as a mother's lips
A mother's tears fall, painting a glorious, sorrowful, tender, and compassionate brilliance upon my face
My petals are cold and hard as winter's ice
The seasons chant and turn, piercing the very center of my heart with a tail of resolute, vast, and splendid light
The one within the hands, seems like a person, seems like a flower.
The one outside the hands, seems like a flower, seems like a person.

In an unspeakable rhythm, I clap my hands.
In the sound, the world collapses and rebuilds.
A crowd of people blooms into a single flower, a cluster of flowers decays into a single person
In the silence, people collapse and rebuild.
A cluster of flowers blooms into a single person, a single person decays into a flower
The flower opens its eyes, the person closes theirs
The person opens their eyes, the flower closes its
Open the flower's fissure, close the person's fissure
Close the person's fissure, tear open the flower's fissure
The flower is devoured, and is also loved.
Swallow love.
Soft, suffocating, enveloping.
Swallow the person.
The ice is loved, and is also devoured.
Love the swallowing.
Hard, stripping, piercing.
Love the person.

Borrow the flower
Borrow the ice
Borrow the tears
Borrow the blood
To form a pair of hands, to form a pair of hands.
To form a pair of stone hands, to form a pair of jade hands
To form a pair of steel hands, to form a pair of glass hands
To form a pair of flame hands, to form a pair of quicksand hands
To form a pair of hands no different from others', to form a pair of hands no different from others'.
Clasp hands, part hands
Clasp hands, part hands
Tears on the flower lose color, blood on the ice melts
Blood on the ice murders color, tears on the flower melt away
Tears on the flower turn barren, blood on the ice weathers away
Blood on the ice weathers away, tears on the flower turn barren
The soul lives upon the flower, the soul dies upon the ice.
The soul lives upon the ice, the soul dies upon the flower.
Clasp hands, part hands, clasp hands, part hands
Parting and clasping hands, the soul begins to blink
Parting and clasping hands, the soul begins to speak
Part hands
Part hands
Part hands
Clasp hands
Clasp hands
Clasp hands
The soul is dying, the soul is resurrecting
The soul begins to howl, the soul begins to leak
The land pierces us
Mother drowns us
The seasons caress us
The crimson thread in the sky chants of us
The flower begins to bloom, the ice begins to bloom, the person begins to bloom, the blood and tears begin to bloom
The person begins to be loved, the ice begins to be loved, the flower begins to be loved, the blood and tears begin to be loved
Swallow and spit out a person, swallow and spit out a flower, swallow and spit out a shard of ice, swallow a drop of blood and tear.
The palms begin to howl, the palms begin to leak.
Die, die, die, die
Resurrect, resurrect, resurrect, resurrect
See the dying palms, see the dying palms, see the dying palms, see the dying palms!
See the undying soul, see the undying soul, see the undying soul, see the undying soul!
See my
Your
His
See
Our
Your
Their
See! See! See!
Cannot but see!
Cannot but see!
All of them!
Palms! Palms! Palms! Palms!
Soul! Soul! Soul! Soul!

I evoked you. left. And just so.
Few tears shed on the way there
and back.

The towering walls, ashen,
ditto the ceiling
but darker.

it allows everything to fall through
I'm being told
to close my eyes,
shut my mouth—
the mouth in my head;
the head my mouth will soon be missing.

I took the landscape with me.
I stood looking backwards.
Snapshots came back blurred.
Unnerved by a palace
where inside is outside.

with and without.

"Tell me how far you will go if you really want to keep me close.” The lyric sounds present yet absent, too familiar to pay attention to, though it hints me on our unspoken accord. “I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I will never let you go.” As a result it can't advance, it can't take the upper hand. I'm euphoric with that firm embrace though i never ever shared it with anyone else. Without a lucid expression to each other we know that, if we chose to, we could venture into something reckless, even pointless. “Feeling close but we are faraway, farther than we think we are.”

As the cabin fell languish, I found my sentience lucid than expected. Is the caffeine reining in the back, out of all cases as the most eminent one? It’s way better than the impasse of drowsiness anyway. The interstice of the window shut down glimmers. Amorphous sense of prelude. I’m stunned with and at peace with the pace my two neighbors and I created. At the moment while their breath calmed arms staggered in their dreams, I hope I am too. “There’s monster in my dreams, I should fight’em but I let them in. It’s killing me slowly.”

The nightmare creeped as the plane is declining height. As the air pressure changes my ear didn’t feel well. All the machinery rumble made a soundscape in and of itself. “Meet me in the middle of night and let me hear you say everything’s okay.” I shut out the world to open up thoughts, to let the inner universe take over. As I'm inwardly present and completely distant comes the greatest moment that transcends all language. To compose poetry is not to utter but to listen, so does anthropology.

The astonishing sunset awaits us, no matter the exact time, as long as we dove down high from above and saw through at the right time. The New York City leaned, boosting its colonies of glow that stood in the night. I threw my sight from the window. What's happened there? Whose light is it? Whom is it lit for? I wonder, and I can’t see it clear. But the depth index is too big to see it clear; the blur blurs. Physically and figuratively.

“Your smile is so beautiful,” they say —
but little do they know,
half of my face is paralyzed.

one side, playing the great pretender
the other,
basking in my sadness,
trying to heal the ache —
one side smiles, the other weeps,
tears running down
my freshly made clothes —
now sagging in my tears.

Do I really deserve skin
if I’m not comfortable in it?
Do I deserve a mouth,
if I can’t sing a sad melody
out into the world,
with the window open,
painting a scene,
spilling my mind on pavement
for anyone that stops
and cares to listen.

everyone still laughing, still smiling;
they walk past my cracks,
blind to the dark picture
I’m trying to open their eyes to.

half frozen,
half dead,
reaching —
for empathy.

the air picks up,
pushes me back from the window;
it shuts, sudden, cold.
I am lost, cut out —
again.

with my body barely able to move,
I reach for poetry,
hoping I can still write
when my voice feels thin,
my fingers trembling, half-paralyzed —
hoping it can set me free.