A Death In The Sun

Man speaks your name like a burning anathema,

and picks up your body where 

butterflies of newspapers circle above you.

 

The yellow sun is in your hair,  the darkened color 

of tamed waters.

The warm yellow sun—

The quiet yellow sun—

 

Your death rides a black van;

Your death, more real than life, comes at five o’clock, 

in a wedding tuxedo.

November, 2018

The sad blue sky’s clear dust gropes its way down 

toward the city,

The asphalt roads glimmer like ice.

Red lights dim, like eyes deprived of sleep, 

trying to understand the great mystery of the morning.

                      

An old man stands at an empty phone booth,  

looking at his map

on which a thousand places are marked,

                                                   with no names.

His walking stick dangles on his arm, 

a compass uncertain of the south, where

the sun throws a shadow.

  

Soot-colored silence,

a black cat,

jumps into an open window, the curtain tied back and knotted.

An army of houses stand vigil on the first day 

                                                   of a lunar winter 

Car Crash On Fuxing Road

I came out from the subway, 

a sense of loss 

began 

to surround me.

People gathered around the exit, 

did not give way.

I hardly knew them, 

I did not understand 

their dialect.

But some words, like birds

escaping 

a horrifying storm,

came to me 

with the sound 

of Death.

 

It was eight in the evening,

rodents began to crawl on the street;

Cameras perched on a branch

and blinked.

A police car 

parked like a corpse

beneath.

拆 or Silence In The Morning

The building is closed;

The cafe we used to go to is closed;

7-11 is closed, 

Nobody goes there anymore;

No bells will toll,

the chapel has been quiet for a century.

Only a woman with sand-colored hair walks by,

slowly, 

          slowly, 

and wipes her eyes with a dirty handkerchief.

We are outside in the yard, trying to figure out 

the scorching silence 

                                in this big city.

On the walls that surround us, 

red characters are minacious and ready to lash us away

– red characters crying destruction.