Lips

Lips are for kissing;
The kiss sublimates two mortal’s filthy desire into joy,
and comforts and fills the greed of mouth with love;
the greed that only wants physical food.
The kiss consoles the tongue with warm breath;
the pint-sized tongue that slashes heart with a dagger.

Open lips
must be closed by other open lips.
The use of lips is just one.

A mouth filled with greed and dagger
has a smell of rotten meat.
Which lips can close the lips of that mouth?

What would I do
with the stinking mouth of the girl
I am about to kiss?
Just lips!

I Shall Be a Flower 5: The Clearing

Again today, I
head for the small clearing in my enormous forest,
cherishing child’s naïve dream,
receiving threat of the Sacrament of Reconciliation,
hearing a plea that the clearing should be filled with Jesus.
A little bird that would bring a news of her coming
didn’t come, but she would fill up the clearing
which nobody or nothing can squeeze in.
The reeling of any twigs,
The sorrow of feebly falling leaves,
can’t replace her mysterious smile.
The sound of undressing of autumn trees
can’t be compared with the thrill of taking off her veil.
Today again,
the clearing is filled with her esoteric fragrance,
not because of weary autumn rain visiting every day,
not because of the November standing dubiously
between Autumn and Winter,
not because of her holed socks,
but because of the wobbling of the shallow-rooted flowering tree
that hasn’t gone through the winter of endurance.

I Shall Be a Flower 4: The Wobbling Target

What is that wobbling target?
What is this bow I am holding?
Why am I on this tiny boat?
Why am I staggering on this rolling water?

With a unleashed fantasy and
With a petty sense of guilt thrusted into a hip pocket,
I set out on a trip with her.
Nobody would dare to paint over my painting.

My name and her name are lying side by side;
My winged illusion has become a reality in this fashion.
When my heart that’s been pounding with great joy,
sees a hole in her sock, it picks up a small boat
and rows toward the center of the lake.

Lay down your bow!
How could you be a flower if you act like a hungry bird?
How come you try to uproot yourself?
If you wobble like a reed in the wind,
could you become an easy target for her?

Ah! I too have a fierce life….