Often trees are conductors of the absolute, the sidereal cuss
eternity. the blow escapes the rehab and into the fire as known
but
lost coupons short of your toaster of existence. the mind needs consciousness,
consciousness does not need mind. Bon Voyage.. when the body revolts within itself, and parts battle
parts,
it's the last revolution, the last pogo, follow the few that
have wisdom, don't let it deceive with knowledge, the brass ring of annihilation, you'll be recognized by a chip, and maybe it will be all that's left..

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Ah Xin

Letter to a Friend

  • by Ah Xin

  • Let me tell you about these sheep. In many ways
  • they are like the ocean creatures you know so well:
  • in the benevolence of the creator, they bear children,
  • each has a face of a lad or an old man.
  • These days they are on the hills, a tight flock, a warm flock,
  • with a thin frost on, like a white mountain.
  • Above them are countless constellations:
  • the Bear in the north, the Dipper in the south, the Arabian Aquarius,
  • the Milk Way flowing like the Amazon…ancient but fresh.
  • I set up my tent next to them.
  • My dreams are numerous, too, and each brings its own comfort.
  • Dawn, dripping with dew, floats down to the grassland at the foothills,
  • like an armada of ships sailing towards an unknown sea.
  • As for me, I will return to the city, where
  • my days and fate await me.

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