Over a flower bridge

Over a flower bridge
I wonder where you hide yourself
if you have just grown wings
before your chest becomes a tide.

Cold rain plus flooding hysteria
dried tongues plus hypnopaedia
longings of past & nurofen
muffled war cries & dank space.

Over a coloured river
Wei & Mang tear themselves
feast on rice wine by the fire
which obscured the silvered kids.

Carved coffins & cruel tinder
blindfolded men plus ghost horses
scarred harmony plus staccato rhythms
terraced fields & blown curses.

Paroxysms of water
over a flower bridge.



In an afternoon I contemplate the sun ahead whilst lighting up a cigarette. The pier before me seems infinite into the horizon that could point to the currents to follow. As inept as this prose might be, I am able to sink in relief, for these words are my own and in them I unabashedly indulge. I hold a world in my hands. My defective mind could be one as well despite this darkness which surrounds. I begin to walk to the waters...
And I can now acknowledge, in theatrical disregard, holding hands with fear, I am alive after all this time.



So each one said to the other, "I could have never noticed how much a horrid being you can become..."


To go till the stars afar,
On wings of blue ever shine,
Bereft the poison longlast,
Believing a world of sparks,
Three rows of pines on each side.


Betwixt a bolt and a thunder,
So yonder thought never this wonder,
Utmost by the chance of prayer,
Praying to oneself as defender,
A million of orchids laugh at.

Denial at times...

Faith liquid anointed at least,
The dirt road has spoken at last,
Infusion of red-mint aloof,
Proof rundowns these cracks,
Unlimited suns by the I.