A World without Agents
Everyone wants to understand art.
Why not try to understand the song of a bird?
Pablo Picasso
No glib, civil slab of muscle and guile,
Sipping a whiskey, smiling at lies
In suspect mouths and eyes, would go so far undercover
As to suddenly cease to be.
Nor would birth become yet another break,
Or life, a mechanical game of billiards,
A meaningless matter of force and fate.
Perhaps nothing in the world would change.
Trucks and tanks would roll into cities
As coccoid methanogens in ruminant guts attack grass;
Saturn would pass through its aphelion
As a boy dons goggles to dip into a pool.
As a pupa turns imago and slowly grows wings
A film about the stock market comes out.
A painter uses acrylic to make stars melt
And some species will sing while flying.
Spoon
Spoonfed sweet comfort
In our mouths can make us doze
Which feels so nice
Like lying on pillows in a limo
Being driven, in our softest dreams,
Along a gorgeous path
To a bed where a smile and soothing words
Cross any missing meaning
Behind our backs.
法宝
我最近的死亡源于一种强烈的购物欲望。去一个店，看看几张脸，进入一些美梦，变成另外一个人。。。
一进门，就能听推销员就喊：‘欢迎光临！这个星期你买三个轮回我们送三个！’
在第一个轮回里我当个胡萝卜，享受肥沃的泥土，跟附近的西红柿说一点闲话。其实，很多人喜欢欣赏植物的生活方式。比如当个高尚的黄瓜，狡诈的蘑菇，或者一个诚实的西兰花- 这真是一种狂喜。
在最后一个轮回我当海菜。我每天摆动在寒潮里，每天被小鱼咬。旁边有个果园，在果园里我最好的朋友是个李子。这个李子真是太美丽了，果皮又薄又亮，她的光亮照明了黑夜。我辛苦时，她会用植物的语言对我私语，给我念诗词，讲一些李子的历史故事。过了几天，一阵台风来了，我被一阵狂风吹到远方，从我亲爱的李子吹到一个不熟的肉体。
在第一个轮回里我当个胡萝卜，享受肥沃的泥土，跟附近的西红柿说一点闲话。其实，很多人喜欢欣赏植物的生活方式。比如当个高尚的黄瓜，狡诈的蘑菇，或者一个诚实的西兰花- 这真是一种狂喜。
在最后一个轮回我当海菜。我每天摆动在寒潮里，每天被小鱼咬。旁边有个果园，在果园里我最好的朋友是个李子。这个李子真是太美丽了，果皮又薄又亮，她的光亮照明了黑夜。我辛苦时，她会用植物的语言对我私语，给我念诗词，讲一些李子的历史故事。过了几天，一阵台风来了，我被一阵狂风吹到远方，从我亲爱的李子吹到一个不熟的肉体。
Coast
Soft off waves’ frisks and spurts
The wind soothes susurrant leaves
And clogs clap rhythm across macadam.
The tide tells time:
Surge, cusp and backwash,
Exhaustion and erosion, absence.
And footprints, back and forth across the sand.
And joyous shouts.
We collect the shells.
t.
En la naturaleza, hay tres grupos de criaturas
herbívoras , carnivores, y las plantas. Por supuesto, las plantas son los seres mas inteligente y mas iluminado. En el mundo, nada es mejor que las canciones de las flores, las teorías de las sandías eruditas, los sonetos de los plátanos, la ópera de las hojas. Las herbívoros están celosos de las plantas. Los herbívoros, con sus aliados, los vegetarianos malvodos, quieren matar las plantas. Quieren cometer asesinatos en masa en el desayuno, el almuerzo, la cena y a veces en el merienda. Los carnivores bondadosos protegen los plantos. Los carnivores matan los asesinos. Cada león, cada lobo, cada gordito en la parrilla es un caballero que juró proteger las plantas iluminadas y sus derechos.
Oscillation
There are no real solids and Buckminister Fuller
Explained that love is a kind of metaphysical gravity
So, as love begins, being swells and surges,
Like when you emerged from foam onto silica,
And I emitted an oscillation through space time,
Along with a transfer of energy, and you waved back.
致我的生活故事
故事,你跑到哪里去啊? 你为什么离开了我? 我是否虐待了你？破坏你的情节的逻辑呢？ 不走向你必然的结论？ 还是你以为我对你不忠，跟其它的故事发生关系？我到底是犯了什么罪？
现在我只是一个单独的字在一本空白的书。。。每天我没事做， 我只能从第一页跑到第二百页， 连一个卑贱的标点符号都没有。。
我跟你说，你不是世界上唯一个故事！ 我会当汉姆雷特！我会当李尔王！我会当奥赛罗！不要怀疑我——我真会！
但是我们已经在一起好多年，差不多浑然一体！如果你回来我保证我不会发表你，不会把你出卖，我会把你的杜撰当作我的台词.
To The Story of My Life:
Why have you left me?
If you think I misused you, show me how-
Did I confuse your plot, defuse your drama,
Or defect into another genre? No, and now
I am just a single word, alone in an empty book
Even the footnotes have flown away
Even the title has departed
And my single word is no pun at all.
But I tell you, you are not the only story in the world!
I could be in Hamlet!
I could be in King Lear!
I could be in Othello! I’ve had offers!
However, we have already been together
On so many endeavours
And for so many years
That we are almost one.
If you come back, if you accept my repentance,
I will serve my function, your diction and your tone,
I will stick to the script, making your words my sentence,
And your fiction my own.
Global Reports and Analysis
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狱: 阴间的政治运动与阶级斗争 (开头）
我一死就发现要排队。行列延伸到地平线，前面有一些中世纪的尸体还在等。我竭力使口气保持平静，对一个穿西装的尸体问：“这是这么回事？”尸体转身，咧着嘴笑，说：’横泉海关。这儿的官僚制度度相当严格。’他对我端详一眼 （他只有一只眼），接着磕磕巴巴地说：“是不不是。。我猜一猜一猜。。。谋杀？毒药？希特勒？”但我不想告诉他我只是一个游客，所以我就喃喃地说：“我们屡教不改的人有永恒的。。。算了，姑且保持安静吧。”
我看一看周围的场景：天于山于水，上下一昏, 寥廓江天万里火。前面的海关官员真恐怖：三米高，四只猪腿，一双巨大的蝙蝠翅膀，一个六米长的黑角。他穿着花里胡哨的衣服，像一个超现实的俄国流氓似的。我看他的那张蓝色的大脸微微抽搐一下，皱成一团，咆哮：“下一位！”
下一位没尽快上前时，蒸汽像响壶哨似的从官员的羊耳喷出来，他用透着寒意的声音喊叫“签证! 傻尸体！快！”
Crazy Grandma Rising
Crazy grandma says her planet’s closed,
And shut the door behind you.
She is past being calmed
By doctors music nurses children
That will sit with her and read with her,
Sounding out the words she slurs
And those she has forgotten.
They are past her or she is past them
Past Citalopram and Olanzapine
Past toothbrushing and toileting
These meals this home this shit.
This calming music
Before death so she storms out bird
On
Ice like
Slip
Hop flap
Flying through the winter breeze
Over a bridge
Into a café,
Where she sits, shivers, and inhales,
Smiling gently though the shelter of her shut eyes.
Then she lets her vision fly out
And watches it flapping away
As she blinks,
Clawing with her eyes at the world.