From Death and Praise
6
these noble deer in the museum
whose shadows reflect a glassware world
stay motionless, as the fugue marches on
as the fainted deer, antlers forward
tread into the infinite warm night of the forest
their secret dance reveals itself to a wolf pack
skin thin like twilight
blood downy, bobbing, yet motionless
as the motorcade follows blue fire to find a god
the setting sun scorches deer hunters’ stretched arms
the deer turn around in a pose that cancels itself
food still fresh in time can only be consumed by time
the deer that fainted twice are now more than excited
and blow out wind of joy from skeletal caves
17
alas! mottled light of the void. alas! angels
I call you so, day after day
en route to the forest, I see a leopard lurk in you
dissolve and restore, not a true being
occasionally it breaks free, entirely at ease
and growls in your deep coma
the leopard afflicted by burning passion
now faints, without a tease
not only is there a leopard around you
—by the bench, between the arms, in the hair
in each pupil there is also a cub
which tears ruthlessly. when desire returns to your body
and flees with beautiful wounds, you fly over
flinging me onto the leopards, flock after flock
The Circus
1
a sly cloud before the eyes
mimics a horsewoman’s red hair
or how a sneaky person
reacts upon seeing it
2
whistle a little tune
cut through a beauty, dismember her
take out stiff flesh from silk
no blood drips, no fear
an earth angel, colored wings on fire
fights with herself, saving herself on the hop
everybody is on the hop saving himself
roles change in no time
3
acrobatics. wind. a hat spins
and drops on the ground, he has to bend
4
a sword pierces through throat
a sword in suspense
too much attention smashes it to dust
5
swing, rise, time to show off
on the bar he realizes
human is but a kind of ape
and you? if you are an angel
do you always watch from the vault
and say sorrow is craft
6
diffuse night of degree zero
the sperm whale of words returns to the seabed
now he is an island, lonesome
phenomenology on the steel cable
he is his own partner in crime
dart and board
a god named Ulysses
nose ice-cold
7
on the bike
ten people make themselves into a wall
muscles rhyme and tower into clouds
ten people turn themselves into a peacock
spin and hold on
as if they made it—
into a naked peacock
8
fire blown toward the audience
lights up the void
becomes one with stars
or still as if a meteor rolls on a carpet
9
this is craft, wings of poetry
a sport that surpasses
no physique or its clumsiness
in their extreme effort they mirror each other
poetry and a person’s frog jump
no trespassing the distance of surprise
when the angel’s swing swings by
10
she calls the horse herd the rippling time
whip, shoo, roll call
a round after a round, glittering
among them she resembles a dignified queen
though she could never tame
that hybrid that absurd
last centaur
Couplets
1
snowy ridges crossed, lavish night sails of the nameless dead
white birches light up candelabras, dawn rifles azalea dreams
2
to toll the bell in my ears, your invented sentences that cut
mainstreams gurgle into the silencer-like gourd of a nation
3
an echo of a thing that makes no sound, like a word strangled
by the umbilical cord, in the still of the womb, deafens the ear
4
a red fox sniffs the snow, detours further, not knowing what a word is
but it knows the smell of snow beats by far the chewing gum of human lies
5
suburbs in pieces, as if struck by thunder. three invisible men lurk outside
*******a footwashing shop
out of the blue, out of words—the video camera goes out of order
6
among the torture gadgets that he displays, a condom (from a raped
yet infertile woman) curls like a penis in a plastic bag
7
the thing that distracts me from poetry wears a charming mask
and behind the mask stands the vast namelessness
8
a UFO cloud emits light. with ample signal enough empathy a few shadows
that shake their giant heads will come down and send souls to the earth
9
I see the entrance to the grave, I figure inside it will be
darker and deeper than Dante’s Inferno and already overpopulated
10
this bed, big as the North, takes me along adrift, hospitable ghosts come out of night
and hush me to sleep by the rush of water, warm as an ice lamp, I fall asleep
11
tell me, dear colleagues, you who keep silent forever in public events
have you redeemed the power you deserve from the deserted mass?
12
fear—legacy from the guillotine, is inherited by silence
I hear the family of silence is prospering and day by day takes tears for food
13
the circulate trick of history: we will grow old, zombies will not
watch out, after half a century, zombies come back to life again
14
walking into an unwelcoming party, as if ranged in a feast for the gluttons
I need to shoo away the fly, I have no interest in seeing it bow its back
15
dug deeper, the totalitarian mines only lead to collapse
memory black like coal crystals, light leaks from the sieve of your body
16
at twilight, sit emaciated on the slope. encyclopedia of the sky opens to me:
every page nibs blood red, blood red, blood red
17
in the basement of the 9/11 Memorial, thousands of dead faces stare at me in unison
as if we were at the bottom of the same boat, facing sunlight and a life in peace
18
uncertainty: the phantom of our age
is like the Loch Ness monster that blows bubbles yet never appears
19
a dream: the detected gene map of the dictator, in the confidential
files, written in codes and invisible ink
20
he has learned to etch words on the water surface. he has learned to look us up
with stone-cold eyes. the swaddled fast runner nearly catches up with infinity
21
a paddle, across a thousand curtain walls thrust by hidden reefs
between sharks’ teeth and the watch of a lighthouse, ferries the sun
22
to endure the tribulation of a word, until it spits you out
like a hard core that sprouts in a grave
23
a stone does not flit by itself, exposing the shadow crushed under it
unless there is another stone, another fulcrum
24
if you have seen the courtship dance of two grebes on the water
you will understand what is the synchronicity of the universe
25
the fallen, lifted by our hands, leaking through our fingers
that once belonged to the stars are sands that boil like tears