Three Poems from Ghost Planets
You left my floor littered with beautiful ideas.
No way to pick them up,
no way to erase the impure line
left by thinking on the floor.
You left my floor littered with beautiful ideas.
No way to pick them up,
no way to erase the impure line
left by thinking on the floor.
In the autopsy of my life
they will pry open my chest
and from there will surface
a fist
clenched tightly
When our ancestors were born,
it was from those yonder mountains
the cool wind blew,
and it was in the river flowing down from there
they bathed.
Like consuming three meals a day,
they sang songs that were steeped
in the scent of grains.
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