The Sky, sunk deep down,
seems to become one with
the Earth, but how can the Sky
and the Earth be fused into one?
When a thick cloud harboring
the smell of the Sky is wandering
and touching the Earth with its feet
and a sunlight filled with the yearning
of the Sky Is coming down to cover
the Earth with its warmth, and a dim
moonlight bearing the desire of the
Night Sky is falling down like a firework,
the only thing the Earth does is to try
to reach the Sky by smoking haze.
Right, the Sky and the Earth
was one. After aeon has passed,
They are trying to become on again,
But the Earth can bear the weight
of the Sky? The Sky can stand the
humidity of the Earth?
The Earth that can’t come up close
to the Sky can’t do anything but waiting
for the Sky to collapse.
Millions of scandals couldn’t stop Bill
from getting to the top of the Sequoia tree.
Even sex with a little bird in the top leaf
was not able to pull him down from that highest spot.
With all of these filthy scandals,
not a single leaf was shaken in the tree.
How deep is the root of this huge tree?
Otherwise, is this a cloud floating in the sky?
We’ll see if Don is able to shake even one twig.
This tiny house where a flower
that hasn’t become a butterfly and a butterfly
that hasn’t become a flower are in together.
would be collapsed by a single ant?
How could a minikin like an ant do such a thing?
But a scandal between a flower and a butterfly,
who are more minuscule than an ant
could destroy the building in an instant.
The nest they are in is just a sand castle,
which even ants are not needed to be destroy,
Is it just a collective rootless formless phantom
in people’s heads?
This castle that the butterfly is settled for snugly
might become a paper shack
that would be swept out by the flood
from the scandal ensued from a mysterious
word of that bird?
Is this place that looks like a sand castle
a just a clearance in the forest where
the flower and the butterfly stay together?
What if I rumor the scandal to prove
that I am at least a small tree with thin roots
deep in the earth and with branches
looking up toward the sky?
Why do you live?
After eons of walking,
I am gazing around
standing on a road not known to me.
There is no way for me know
from where I set off on this journey.
Do I know where I am headed?
I wouldn’t know where this road my feet are on
is going? Rather,
if this road wouldn’t arrive anywhere,
after I would do again eons of walking
and return here,
would I see gargantuan wings
coming down ripping the gray sky?
To go that green grass
across the river,
I want to turn into a fish.
I can’t split the river like Moses;
I can’t walk on the water like Jesus;
I can’t swim like Michael Phelps;
So I want to turn into a fish.
If I have to,
I will sell my soul to the Devil
to turn into a fish
I will take the bait of an angler
on the other side of the river;
I will be grilled sizzling
on the green grass.
What kind of fish
do you want to be, buddy?