/ Thirteen Lines on Night Island
Night rain without pattern like a needle he tattoos my heart
my hidden enemy
He remains inside my suspicion for him
Wear a tabby on your head stomp on the auspicious slowly swirling clouds
dingding dangdang lightly croon
You spool back up the sky’s ice-spirit
The sky sweats for me this island this island
a pulsing lemon this island this island
A storm engulfs the black sea-wine and turns it gray
This island’s reaching hand is the most bewitching songbird
This fishsong like a needle feeds me flowers
I plunge into the fire-flowing ice-stars in the blood.
Revised, September 2007
Printed from Cerise Press: http://www.cerisepress.com
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