Image result for horizon surreal
Photo from a song named “Stereo Horizon”

There is a closing at the door
the man stops–
the foot rests under the table,
his hands reach out to the ceiling
past the moon
past the stars
past the stars above the stars,
where does the eye end,
in you or in me?

The vicious gazing,
I wish it to stop.


The phone call

100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018

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North Star by Dadu Shin

I guess I cannot write it–
the pain is too saturated
for the stars to become
in a constellation of a memory.

In the dark,
I held up my neck
and I listened to your alien voice
and from the haunt of the silent space,
one might imagine,
it was accidentally passing by.

Out of the box


       100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018

I was born in an empty box
and laid in it
like a sleeping man in his grave,
but soon I could play
and even watch the stars
from the fourth wall,
of a cat’s noonish dream.

A man sidestepped upon it once
and stood upon me
like a tall shadow upon the moon
and so the box tore away;
I stood naked in the wind
and the stars were brighter
than I had ever seen before.

Soon the night surmises
the lapse of people without boxes,
And so you begin again
create emptiness within emptiness,
like a form of winter clothing.

But what are we
if not terribly stripped
–in this brittle time–
of boxes and cycle-ends.

I have clothed myself
in an unraveling,
when a man told me of a house of boxes,
but one without a roof;
The stars are lakes again,
dark angels
that will always fall in the night,
what of your house then
and what of my boxes.

Starry night


       100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018

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I hated nostalgia,
for I was still a child
and what of child and the past,
and what of child and the future?

In my starry night,
I lapped in the moonlit sea
where wise turtles swam
and a bright meadow of stars spake,
of a vibrating universe
and secrets that evaded men,
but I like to think–they came close,
oh so close to me.

And when I came out of the sea
all drenched,
they thought it was the water-broke
and I was still a baby,
for I could not tell them what the stars said
and thus language, you’ve again
betrayed me.

I make words
they unmake me,
when I am told that I am only them.

It is a terrible thing to live without language
and to be told,
it is the way of life.

Law of attraction 

Of a neon glow

Traveling throug a space-tunneled gullet

Into a bloated starry sky

Where to each eye

Her own reality.
Billions of stars looking down from the sky.

Billions of eyes looking up to the sky.


Because she is never stationary

And always moving about like Van Gogh’s winds

Whenever I stretch out my finger into the cold dark night

She stretches in a great cosmic yawn

To caress my arms

Until we melt in our atomic marriage

Of neither star

Nor human.