He whispers a civilization of fascinations,
that sat discarded
‘neath the awning
of the old willow trees
And by the heat of the gods
into an unlit expanse,
scarcely a road sign to guide
my twists and turns
But this decade cried out,
as though the meek
had inherited a trove of second chances
to get the geometry right
and the physics tight
as I flow down in flames,
as though immolation were the last stand,
the last barrier before the great reef
of an eternity under my canopy
Don’t you take that away from me.
— yiqi 17 april 2011 8:29 AM
I’ve been tied to you; you’re now tied to me. When the sun crackles its sting at you,
I still know it before you do.
When the moon ascends above my balcony, you can now guess I’m leaning against it for the view.
I’m bound to you; you’re now wired through me. When the air lashes its sulfur flares at you.
I still hear it before you do.
When the jazz band missteps on the blues, you can now guess where I’d rather go to.
I’ve progress nearly complete about you; you submit to certainties about me. When Eden’s spirit enfolds you,
I still taste it before you do.
And now this remains, you are tethered to me,
A jailer, I still am not –
just a dreamer merged with a contender,
much surprised by that which instructs me,
wishing we could always be entwined
like an indestructible knot.
— yiqi 17 april 2011 8:39 AM