Living Together

They shall encounter three intentions of life out on the
     street corner:
Embers in an old man's pipe, children's scrawl
    scribbled on a wall
And the wet legs of women walking in the rain . . .

They lingered an entire night
Looking for signs around a small white house
The sun had risen, yet still they could not decide on
    their destiny
That was when the mistake occurred
Without any prayer
They slept together in one bed
And regardless of the cruel shining
Of the daylight outdoors at a later time
So that they could fall asleep with a touching smile on
    their faces
As if deceased 
Not bothering to recall 
Even the most tender of things
They had already risen up and crossed the street
Entering straight into
The doorway of that building with no signs
They hence disappeared
Exactly as predicted by
Mother on her deathed
In fact, deep in their hearts
They had always been looking for
A chance to insert that past episode
Had always been conversing in a coded language
It's like the mood on a snowy day
Returning from the fog with light and soft steps
Peeling and feeding the patient tangerines
The flowers in that greenhouse
Through the violet frosty mist
Must have left them with an unforgettable impression
And set ablaze
Their sentiments
So let them
Faint briefly for another moment
— Go
Give them a beat
But don't let them notice
Don't let their window of living together
Darken hereafter
Don't let them ever lose
That impressionistic power to look far into the open
    wilderness 

As they walked toward the middle of the street at dawn
They saw life. Life
Was that street sweeper who stopped his work
Looking at them approaching
He was wearing a blue working uniform
With a pipe dangling from his mouth, standing in the     morning —

1976

At Dawn's Gunpoint Lingering Smoke Rises

At dawn's gunpoint lingering smoke rises
Fire in the stove, sun rays, music all night long: all are     dreaming

I'm scratching at pebbles with my tiny paws
A night mouse is also like a child

Rustling across the silvery ground
Oh, all are dreaming

But morning shines on the mirror of the past
All things, all things come into their age

The orchards too reflect families' doors and windows     red

All things, all things come into their age
But through the four seasons the wheel of passion     keeps turning

Listen, I'm twisting all the little trumpets on the night     mouse's body
Listen, the night mouse is proudly singing, standing 
     atop a train:

In a place where there is only happiness
Happiness is like lumber

Happiness is like lumber
Crackling and popping

The orchards too reflect families' doors and windows     red

1983

Promise

I love, I love my shadow
Being a parrot, I love eating
What it loves eating, I love giving you what I don't have
I love asking: Do you still love me? 
I love your ear, and it loves listening: I love adventures

I love this enamored house inviting us to lie down and
    make its roof
I love lying on my side, casting a shadow for a straight line
Leaving a string of small villages for a voluptuous body 
I want that birthmark closest to your lips
To know, this is my promise

I love the intelligence in my dreams being an ambitious     groom 
I love eating raw meat, gazing straight at hell
But more I love secretly playing the violin in your arms
I love turning off the lights early, waiting
For your body to illuminate this room once again

I love when I sleep, my pillow covered in plums
Waking up, the plums all have returned to their
     branches
I love all night long the waves attracting the front deck
     of the ship
I love shouting: You will come back
I love torturing the harbor, torturing words, in this way

I love controlling myself in front of the desk
I love thrusting my hands into the sea
I love my five fingers stretching open at the same time
Holding tightly the edges of a wheat field
I love my five fingers still being your five boyfriends

I love memory being a life, less
But still more than what has been left out when a
     woman
Walks toward me, as if thirty years ago
In the sunset, on the street, that girl carrying her violin
     case
Still smiling at me for no reason

I love even more that we are still a pair of torpedoes
Waiting for someone to launch us again
I love rejoining you in the depths of the sea, you
Are mine, only mine, I
Still love speaking like this, like this, singing of my
     promise –

2008