Pippas Lament
a newly liberated butterfly
beating her wings against the
freshness of flowers --no eye is looking at it
a speckled-faced village boy
shouting loud at his dirt-free
future in his dream --no ear is listening to him
a thick summer sunbeam
warming a flat stone in the heart of
the forest --no finger is touching it
a rich and brilliant dish
lying on the big table in an empty
monstrous house --no tongue is tasting it
a blood-stained sea breeze
blowing afar from an island
beyond the horizon --no nose is smelling it
no one knows god is not in heaven
nor is all well with this
worthy world
The New Silk Route
has it ever occurred to you
this upgraded silk route
now
passing through new york
and los angeles to mars
all started from a
white wobbling worm
who has never stopped launching
his filament, and
filament out
in a persistent pale pain
as he tries to weave into the
fabric
of this worlds dazzling brocade
a gear-edged raspberry
leaf
by using his tiny toothless mouth
to chew its wounded texture?
The Savage Spot of Light
long after turning off
your monster tv set
you still
seem to see
at the screen center
a bright dot of light
a stubborn
full stop
forgotten to put at the end
of a rambling run-on sentence
made all in a maze
about love and/or hatred
with a wet mop of history
you try hard to wipe it off
yet it refuses to vanish
like a primordial black hole
sucking its
own surface inside
as it grew larger, rounder
and blurred instead
trying harder to stop it up
you squeeze in your coins
books, plantpots, photoframes
sofas, shoes, finally clothes
and
everything in hand
but only to be thrown out
right on the spot
frustrated and desperate
you jump your entire naked self in
with your heart and names alike
until you became one dimensional
losing both your mind and freedom
senseless
Mans Mutation
dear god, i often wonder
in bitter sweetness
or sweet
bitterness
whether i or my first home computer
is the real father of my
son
who i well remember
was not conceived in a chip
but seemed to
have been delivered
at the wrong website
breastfed at chat rooms
brought up in a silver cyber space
as he just refuses to grow
into
a full human being
like myself, my father
or my father's father
i
know he is not really a monster
but only a cold blooded hybrid
between
my high mind and high tech
so forever lost in virtual reality
that no
birth day celebrations
can hope to wake him up
from his quasi
hibernation
on the little mouse pad
I Love You, Dear Death
even since pangu
separating the sky from the earth
all
my poor fellow humans
have been hating
hiding from, or
fighting
face to face with you
although in vain
but i love you, dear death
not because you are the more
fair, and sincere than any lover willing to declare nor because you are the
ultimate home to any wandering soul seeking a dome nor because you could even
give one's name a guaranteed immortal fame
i do not know how to count
the countless ways i love you
yet i have flirted with your shadow
hundreds of times in private
when i found it unbearable
every cutting pain in my body
when i was
simply sick of the fact
life is full of the foul, or
when i lost the
meaning and direction
of my dull and humble life
i love you, dear death
because only you can liberate my soul
from the stuffy prisonhouse and
give me
the fresh air in the outside world