my fire is burning the eyes shining at night
during the apple's falling onto the black table
that black table underneath the polluted holy spring
"we do not speak English", she told me
I wake up your father from the graveyard
he should have been a General
every new moon night he kisses his mother's ankle
she died in his skinny arms
the city is going to be irrelavant to me
including you, and the stories you murmured
its epitaph states
"concrete can last for ever"
the rolling wheel
over the tallest building in the world
has no time to remember me
I've burried a silver coin of waterlily into the lime mortar
when the dawn rises
I promise I will vanish softly
This one is powerful, and vivid. But deeply mysterious. Im going to spend a long time riding a bus or sitting on a park bench to ponder the images in this poem...
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