Pounding those threads passed,
you just kill the time:
Standing one twilit corridor of one year
away.
The ruins, the smears, the enameled pikes,
They all rattle together, in a blunt look.
Two stories forwards, I watch you the tranquil lecturing rubs
those divided petals from west to east into a sword,
yet you passed by the second when my fuse was about to divide.
So I stood stock: that green light is no longer back, time
will never treat me kindly, will never even
Deign.
But you killed the time, you stabbed it,
when
a simmering heart is hibernating a volcano,
beneath the yellowing August full moon and drip down the months, then
I stumble my waist and hands in ceramic bowl:
this is the thousandth of time I tiptoed the Milky Way.
And you watch the big bard cascading the whole liquor in,
And you watch the little magpie flaunting her feathers,
And you waves and wink: Hi.
You know, it is my festival.
"Do I dare disturb the universe?"
Eliot would believe, a hunch across one hundred years
to my boat shaped desk.
Do you dare disturb the universe? My lip squirms,
hands are too; those papers and essays flutter with seagull
in your left hand, with a Beowulf sword on the right.
This is a moment foams with the Phoenix's dust.
I smile, I realized I have been ill for many years.
Longing,
Witness the flash I could see you in the dark.
YOU ARE READING
Tigress from the east
PoesíaA poetry collection written by a Chinese girl. Biggest life goal of her: sitting in perfect balance of daylights and nights, back towards a mysterious naked tree, a cup of chai is better than coffee. Thinking, turn a being as living
