Sunday, February 15, 2015

Canto 27 - Duo Duo




Gu Cheng

I once was called to speak
 and I tried to use exodoxin.
 the world was new,  and high would have
 to use the word,  at least once.
 not knowing that once was too much,
 and a lifetime was too little.
 so I tried to pronounce the word,
 and then sat down where
 my  teacher said that is was
 not my time to yet.
 and I was ashamed.

Mao Zedong  is a presence
 when he is not spoken of.

 what kind of the Gu Cheng  have
 first he wrote a glistening  poem
 like this and signed his name.

 I think about him all the time,
 that riches of red sorghum
 and the plot which is in design
 when first he conceived of it.

 what do garlic  ballads have
 that makes them dream of  Stalin.
 even if the quote was made up for the tail,
 even if the tale was made up for the novel.

 wouldn't it be special if just once
 a Chinese book would make up words
 and then use them as he would?
 Maqaiu that  it might also be  said.

To live his just a synonym
  for to die upon a bed.

 you want me to endure
 but what does that have to do with me?


 I had a chess master one's
 I've learned to resign my first move.

Chongqing  reminds me
 that the three body problem
 does not have two to with the West,
 and listens for the interminable structure
 of the Cultural Revolution.

 down to the countryside movement
 three characters demand chess,  of the Chinese kind
 as payment for their work.
 and then one player defeats nine blind.

Gu Gong  oh the horror of that name
 which no one knows
 but those which speak Chinese.

Mao Zedong  is a presence
 when he is not spoken of.

Jintian  was resurrected
 in the spring tide  snows of Stockholm.

 Gregory Lee  has a point of view
 not shared by anyone else in the past.

Jone Guo  would know it's light side
 and it's darker side as well.


 how do you say
  among the Mandarin set
 something that is compressed
 so impressed that not have  a word in English.

 what other common income or comes
 to be released   by it in turn.

 I am not from the
lost generation,
 will be here
when you get back

 I am not from  the
 lost generation
 because you're going
around the circle.
 I am not from the
 lost generation,
 because you'll lose
 yourself at least once.

 duo duo  returned to China
 and that was that.

 all for the one of three pin nails
 gone to seed on the dust.

 that I should write
Yan Liank  should,
 in a moments high
 be what I would write.

 this is me to high
 and there is nothing I can do.

 you could go back
 to 1991
 and destroy the People's liberation Army art
 for destruction in advance.
 would you do it
 if no one could tell?

Canto 26 - Shakespeare


Only the West was truly one,  and all things were made
 each as one and as alone,
for by and by,  ingots of steel betray to nothingness,
 and inner strength that man denies.
 and with that denial of that herself,
 comes a time when frustrated by his dreams,
 he rises up instead and asks the woman,
 what he should do  before the missed,
 clutters in the substance,  and steals a peak,
 at that which yonder window breaks,
 and lays why the Ilias of  of sun.

 and how do we know which times were left,
 in each one past has a moment left,
 to bind an bind away  the counter cyclical point of view,
 imagining that we have made no stride,
 and returned to nothing less than dew.
 to nothing less than dew I fear,
 is all that we came from,  and nothing more,
 times roll on without  rhythm or indeed even rhyme,
 has a smooth motion has yet it  its own,
 nothing more and nothing less,  it seeks its own creation,
 and has no time to even speak the name that was
 on history's time momentarily
 and then like dewdrops is gone and past.

 I wish to heaven that my voice was back,
 and every moment  enjoyed as before,
 but that will mean that the slow ever hard,
 would be so quickly into the sun,
 and I would not know anything about this,
 the time that was never once again.
 for it has stricken me to be myself,
  myself, myself that ever was and ever will be,
 in wishes that it contained the time was its past,
 you join the  before the truth has written and lines it's having
 an rises up from the bitter glass,
 and says to the world it's time has done.


 we know of no other command,  accept the one which compels,
  ticking like a clock,  with hours adjust to days,
 and read before it's time has done,
 a merit sumo that would never was,
  a time which is already past conjoined witfeature not begun.


 the  interluded  structure of the verse untold,
 is now the structure of ever a time and ever place,
 a metronome that skips and words,  because as the sun sets
 it morel wants nothing more than to be asked,
 and flustered for its thought of time.

 and if I were someone who thought
 that this could be the last I ought
 then make it so in better players
 nought specific to his fantasy,
 not to  his own wishes that would inspire
 a deeper wish.
 Shakespeare Shakespeare what has become
so tipply  on the tongue  that makes  it roar
 remember that  the metronome is but a dream

 William Shakespeare  could not agree on how to spell his name,
 and not  is why lunatics think that there is some resonance
 in  thought and every  eye,  and crossing every  T.
 it is an obsession based on some nerve condition
 that they want to impose its structure on you.