Sense of Cleanness
The fact is
what your closed eyes can see is a hidden pain, softer
than what a hand can touch.
Yet, you are still willing to believe
when you press your fingers against your temples
the distant one may be appeased.
This, has become a habit.
Therefore, black fat balloons
scrape by a broken lampshade on the post in the black night and then
they float away into nothingness.
Nothing is broken. No smell of burning.
But you frown,
for the imaginary distinct odor.
Imagination, you know, is like
A kite or an intimate word, a joy that echoes in your heart
and surrenders to no words.
If it is not bound with a red tape of love and shame,
it is a bad thought.
At this thought, he flashes into your mind,
again, but you tell yourself
he does not know.
The beach beneath the pedestal of your desklamp, no matter how sunny,
is no place for you to sunbathe.
You need a coconut tree, a big boulder, a big bath towel.
You need more than
turning back to those bare chests and backs.
When you step out of the shade, you pave a path for your soles,
with your unspoken words, and shove your toes
into the warm sand.
The blue sky and white clouds are too luxuriously expansive,
and you only need to keep very little to your own.
Venus, your mons is a pure delight to the eyes
of a wandering singer, who is gleeful
even when repenting.
Its beauty is like a blossom on a papal staff,
and you have never seen it, not even in a mirror.
You have heard of his name as a poet and lover and a saint.
You have a phobia for crawling insects, especially the reptiles
and smooth-skinned amphibians,
so you’d like to perch on a round bed
at the center of an incensed room.
You have not left your third-floor boudoir window since mid-spring,
for at the end of the alley downstairs there
live a Chinese date tree and a phoenix tree.
The flowering season has gone, but your face,
in bud, is waiting for the stars
to descend and visit your dream.
The white silk handkerchief you use to bind hair has red flowers,
and black waves shimmer on your untied hair.
You always feel a little ashamed for having a pair of small breasts,
like many vain women.
September 18-20, 2008