Untitled
When the rain was chittering down after supper,
Your voice on the imaginary phone sounded absent and drifting.
The impedance of distance did not conduct moisture of emotion,
And without poetry you embody your love life into the warm TV.
When life falls too deep into the soap-operas, can we agree
Between us on silence and nonsense, if blue words are too sticky?
Wind falls through the shutter which used to sieve moonlight,
And now I don’t know what’s the point of bringing it up.
I am reading L’Attente l’oubli, a mixed genre
Which I always enjoy. Maybe forgetting is a detour of memory,
Or a blind gut, like self-exile into night from the everyday.
Should le don latent be read as le don l’attend? A hope against hope?
As I am writing, too many fuckable women have fallen into ugly slumber,
And do you know how much I want to wake you up with these lines!
Sept. 30-Oct. 1, 2008
无题
晚饭后的雨滴落出了鸟的啁啾声，
我想象的电话上，你的嗓音有点躲闪飘忽。
时空的阻抗无法传导情感的潮气，没有诗，
你习惯于将你的情爱生活搬进热乎乎的电视。
生活已经沉入电视剧太深，蓝色词句已太粘稠，
我们是否还能同意沉默和废话的意思？
风穿过百叶窗摔到地上，而那本来应该是
筛漏的月光，可我现在提到它又有何意义？
我在读布朗肖的《等待忘却》，跨文体的作品
总令我喜欢。忘记是否只是记忆的便道或者盲肠，
犹如自我流放在黑夜就是远离了日常生活？
“隐秘的礼物”可否当作“待领的礼物”？绝望的希望？
多少女人在那么丑陋地昏睡，她们本该可操、可疼，
而你是否知道，我写这样的句子，就是想将你弄醒。
2008年10月1日
No comments:
Post a Comment