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Mar 19, 2008
寒露
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http://lefrisson.blogbus.com/logs/17301456.html
A December Morning
Sometime in the dripping dew, past
Encapsulated,
Fast forward to a convex:
About to burst open
Into a new nihilism,
Noon.
Filial illusions to an only child
If ever our lives were real...
Precocious gay boys doubled
For an act of self-abnegation
In carnivals and Kinderszenen.
Always marked moto perpetuo
In my little quest poem.
Through this chilly morning mirror
Stubbles of memories bleed
Under the critiquing razorblades
Of little dotting rhythms…
Excruciating pain in a nutshell
To recognise the frisk air
Venturing naked outdoors is advisable
Highly appreciated, dismissed, and then forgotten
The body shatters in blossoming,
But has to retrieve a shamelessness
Native to the next world.
I counted the napes, locks and shuddering lips
I embraced many an uncertain stranger in the process
Of Transfiguration
But the child remained there, with a crooked smile
The child trapped in morning dew, and everything
Reeking of nascent life, and sex, and death.
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评论
Happy Easter.
There are two, yet still one in the lines there. Blue and grey are one. Between the past and the future stand you, now, who is both in the past and future, torn between the two colors, yet fusing together with both… I hope I understood it.
But maybe “transfiguration” and “nihilism” would better stand in images.
i like your interpretation. i did try to hint at the 'caught-up' state...i.e. trapped between the irretrievable past & the uncertain future : )