Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Four short poems

By X. Z. Shao

It seems to be

It seems to be
a quarry of broken concrete
crooked steel beards
pointing out in disorder.

You will live in time
in it, a mansion
echoing your soft whispers
and your gait in every mirror.
                           Feb 18, 2014

A dead person

A dead person
cannot argue or maim
but he must be somewhere
grasping with his hands
shouting dry his throat,
if in life
no opening would let him peep into
a garden of roses.
                         Feb 18, 2014

Some note I took
Some note I took
to remind me of matters life or dead.
In an altered time, altered mind,
I picked it up again
and threw it into the dustbin.

A shadow

A shadow
of a bamboo grove
on a wall,
a Jackson Pollock masterpiece.
The moonlight paints without hands
while Jackson dances a monkey dance.

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