As you are

5 09 2017

I like you as you are
See the light bouncing off you
like sunlight on the lake
and celebrate

You are not wrong
or bad
or sinful
You are you
who makes me want to sing

I want your forest on me and around me
I want to go into your realm
and knock politely on doors
and walk away if they don’t open
and feel unperturbed

I want to show you the depths of gentleness
how soft softness can be

I want to be gentle
and unassuming
in hope
that you might put the star back
on your brow
and step out

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(12.26.2007) & (12.30.2007)

5 09 2017

《短诗》
你的鸡巴
又短又湿

Short Poem

Your cock
is short and wet

《失眠》
我在床上
你在上床

Insomnia

I’m on the bed
You’re on the bed





(12.21.2007)

28 08 2017

《青春》
青春很瘦
一阵微风就把它吹走了
回来的时候
带着肥胖的棺材

Youth

Youth is slim –
A gust of wind blows it away
Upon return,
A bloated coffin follows





(8.13.2007)

21 08 2017

《只言片语》

我是死去的诗人
双目已盲
一只眼中是日食
一只眼中是月食
我愿用所有的性交
换回只言片语
我愿用所有的光彩
换回苍白

A Few Words

I am a dead poet
blind,
the solar eclipse
in one eye
lunar
in the other
I would trade all fucking
for a few words
I would exchange all glory
for the pale





Ren Hang – Poems

21 08 2017

A few years ago, I edited a couple issues of Far Enough East – a Shanghai based literary journal that a few friends and I started. We had high hopes but no time, and Shanghai has always been a city of transients.

I was really proud of this issue:

Ren Hang

But if you try to find it now, our URL takes you to a Japanese site that seems to be touting hair removal.

Oh well. Things are lost all the time.

What I remember about this issue was that I wanted to feature some poetry from the photographer – Ren Hang. I was going to translate his poems, and I can’t remember if I ever did. There’s no way to check now, because the site is gone. I remember, he very kindly let us use whatever photographs we wanted.

I heard that Ren Hang killed himself in February, mourned a bit, then went on with my life.

I wandered into a Ren Hang solo show in Shanghai a little while ago, and found his photographs beautiful, and forgot about it again.

Then, today, my good friend asked me if I wanted to go to that same show i wandered into.

I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do believe in a confluence of events. I also believe that random events can have meaning if you decide to act upon them in response.

I’ve been reading about the afterlife in Judaism recently. The idea of a legacy resonates with me. The living may perpetuate what is immortal about the dead. I’d like to contribute in some small way to perpetuating Ren Hang’s legacy. From afar, he seemed honest, in some way.

He left his pictures behind. And his words. I’d like to bring them into English. To mark and witness him.

 

 

 





Did you understand me when I traced “I love u” on your skin?

9 07 2017

I am resorting to such cowardly ways and means.

Setting my transparencies on the projector, overlaying them upon your blank white screen

But you are not a blank white screen.

Presumptuous of me to fall back into assuming

You have also your inadequacies

I know

I have felt so

Too small or too scarred or too mute

My lines meet your lines, and converge or diverge, blur and obscure

till neither of us is clearly seen

so I think you think I’m not sexy, think you think I’m not quite right, think you think you can’t be weak around me

so you think I think you’re not strong enough, think I think you can’t satisfy me, think I think you’re not quite right

I don’t know what quite right might be. Do you?

I don’t know what satisfaction is. Do you?

I don’t know what you are like, when you’re weak. I don’t dare ask you to show me, to trust me.

You make me lonely.

You make me throw back my head and laugh.

You make me cum hard.

You make me feel as if the stars are singing to me from a room down the hall.

You make me sad and happy.

You smell like the woods, and almonds, and milk

I am trying to be your blank white screen

I am trying to be your blank white screen

I am trying

I am trying so hard

I am trying

I think you are trying to tell me you love me

 

 





24 05 2017

it’s too much it’s too much it’s too much

the wonder

wet, forward moving, together, churning

kisses. oh kisses.

whisper, let me back in

slipping, urgent towards one thing

not caring not caring what my face looks like for once

love

love love love

flooding me, drowning me

his voice in the darkness like a man in a raft set out to sea

Hearing the crest, fallen against the bulkwark of my darker ship

glimpses in moonlight obscured

get inside me

please

get inside me please please

let me hold you inside me

keep you safe and small and protected

like a prayer and I am happy

I am finally happy

you are inside my body like water drizzling down my neck, behind my ears

all inside me like a crowd of cheers, and balloons – thousands – set free at once

like being killed and killed and thank you

thank you

I never knew what tenderness could do

how it could crack me like a blade of grass cracks the cobblestones