Walking in the night, there is snow on my forehead, still.
Walking through a blank sheet of paper, it is still
Enter the invisible field
Walking between words, between wheat fields, into
Between the discounted leather shoes, remove the word.
Looking at the moment of hometown, but still
Standing in the wheat field, sorting clothes, still
Bend down the knees cast by the golden shield, still
The loudest in the world.
Still, still the earth.
When light passes between the mowers' legs, it
A burst of laughter broke out in the golden corn field. That's it.
A burst of firecrackers gave a bright red pepper field, still
No arrangement can reproduce its golden color.
Its order is the vigorous growth of vilen in autumn.
It is persuasive everywhere, and it still is.
A gust of cold cow dung in September was shoveled into the air, and it still
10 month, the stones form a team and remain unchanged.
The rain in November, after a place without you, remains the same.
Seventy pears are still smiling on the tree.
Your father or your mother.
Cough in laughter.
The bull hit its head on the lost road.
But also a family sitting on an ox cart watching the snow.
Licked by a giant ox tongue
Warm or warm.
It is the snow in memory that increases the weight of memory.
Snow owes it, and then snow covers it.
It is snow that has turned a new page.
It's over. It still is.
Wheat fields and cemeteries in winter have been linked together.
Four desolate trees have been planted here.
The light of the past poured into the story and split outside the words.
Split, but still
Your father took your mother's death as his sky.
Use his death as your mother's tombstone.
Your father's bones fell from the mountain.
I still do.
Every star is experiencing this life.
Every broken glass buried in the backyard is talking.
For a reason not to meet again, say
Still, still.
1993
I am reading a book.
I read my father in the wheat field in November.
I saw his hair.
The color of his tie, the lines of his pants.
His hoof tripped over his shoelaces.
Play the violin while skating on the ice.
The scrotum is tight, and the neck is stretched out to the sky because of excessive understanding.
I read that my father is a horse with big eyes.
I read that my father left the herd briefly.
His coat hangs on a small tree.
And his socks, and the looming horse.
Those pale asses are like skinned people.
Female shower gel in oyster shell.
I read the smell of my father's hair oil.
The smell of tobacco on his body
And his tuberculosis, which lit up the left lung of a horse.
I read a boy's question.
Rising from the golden cornfield
I read it when I was sensible.
It began to rain on the top of the red house where shells were drying.
During the wheat planting season, the legs of four dead horses were supported under the plow.
Horse skin is like an open umbrella, with horse teeth scattered everywhere.
I looked at the face taken away by time.
I read about my father's history and rotted quietly in the ground.
The locusts on my father live alone.
Like a white-haired barber holding an aging persimmon tree.
I read that my father put me back in the horse's belly.
When I was about to become a stone bench in the fog of London
When my eyes crossed the man walking on the bank avenue, ...
199 1.
North Sea
In the North Sea, huge glass is mixed with ice and surging.
A kind of loneliness, loneliness before marine animals discovered the mainland.
Land, have you ever known what it means to take away the sky?
On the night of transporting tigers across the sea
The shadow of a tiger swept across my face.
Oh, I believe in my life.
And my life is not exciting. not have
No one in my life is excited to exchange blood with others.
If I can't have a memory-stronger than the wind.
I will say: the sea is getting older and older.
If I can't rely on hearing, then disappear.
Something with sound.
If I can't study laughter,
-Looking forward to coming back from the sea
I would say: as small as my body.
I can't get excited.
But what caught my attention outside the sky
Stones will lay eggs, and the shadow of reality will move.
On the established seabed, the seawater runs day and night.
-For the first time, I had joy.
These are all things I have never seen before.
Silk-like river, the river is the bridge.
Silk shakes the river, and the river rolls the sky.
All the pictures moved me.
And inexplicable joy played an inexplicable role in my heart.
At this moment when we have no more time than usual.
I hear mussels, in the moment of love.
The sound of opening the double shell
Many lovers shed tears-I noticed.
The storm lifted the four corners of the earth.
The earth kept the silence of the last child eaten by the wolf.
But from the big basket that rises high
I see all the people who love me.
Too tight, too tight, too tight-hug each other
1984
Rivers in Amsterdam
1 1 month night city
Only the river in Amsterdam.
suddenly
The oranges on my tree.
Swing in the autumn wind
It's no use closing the window.
It's no use going upstream.
The pearl-studded sun has risen.
useless
Pigeons spread like iron filings.
The street without boys suddenly seemed empty.
After the autumn rain
A roof crawling with snails
-My country.
From the river in Amsterdam, it flows slowly. ...
1989
Dance in spring
In winter, the snow shovel leveled the forehead.
tree
I heard your loud voice.
I heard a ticking sound-a shiver of melting snow.
Sunlight pours into the fields like molten steel in a furnace.
Its light comes from the direction in which the giant bird spreads its wings.
Python, broken on a pebble pile.
In the window frame, the sound like a drunken soldier is burning.
I heard the sound of the sea from the tin roof.
Ah, quiet
I forgot your snow-white roof
I have been hurt by the wind that blows away snowflakes.
When the field strongly affirms the fragrance of love
My shouts were drowned in the torrent of chestnuts rolling down the mountain.
I am afraid that my heart will become useless because of happiness.
1985