Dumped Man

A happy-looking man who
keeps throwing stones to
a murky horizon far far away
buried in a deep deep fog.

The happier-looking man who
Is gazing at the dim fluttering of
a seagull-like bird in a thick thick mist.

As if worshipping the horizon,
as if waiting for the fog to be lifted,
a happy rock with a look of
throwing stones into the sea water.

A very very old rock.

Winter Sea

From my warm cheap motel room,
I am staring at the cold priceless winter sea.
The frozen horizon
The clockwork wave
The chilly water like a woman turning her back to me
The beach void of bikinis
What is my mind scouring the vast sea for?

I would rather to become
an animal that prints its desperate paws
on the fresh snow in the mountain.

I could plunge into that cold-blooded sea
and beg for life.

Just like a captain on a placid ocean
boasting that he would die with his ship,
I am gazing at the drawing
that imprisons the winter sea.

Where Are You Heading, Butterfly?

A weary butterfly in a flower garden
dusts the fragrance and is heading for a desert.
To bury the memory of the sizzling pistil
deep in the sand,
the butterfly is heading for a desert.

Flowers are coming out in the desert.
A flower garden in the desert
built with the sweat of the heart
by digging the memory of pistil.

A flower garden in here too!
The butterfly is heading for the sea.
To throw the memory of the fragrance
riding the sand storm
Deep in the ocean,
The butterfly is heading for the sea.

A flower garden is shimmering in the water.
The butterfly is heading to the flower garden in its home
to be buried deep with flowers.

The butterfly has found a paradise devoid of flowers.