Thursday, February 25, 2016

A Duo Duo Poem


it’s morning or any time, it’s morning
you dream of waking up, you’re afraid of waking up
so you say: you’re afraid of ropes, afraid of women with faces of birds, so you dream of your father
speaking bird words, drinking bird milk
you dream of your father as a bachelor
who by chance, not in a dream
had you, you dream the dream your father dreamed
you dream your father says: this is a dream a dead man has dreamed.

you don’t believe but you’re inclined to believe
this is a dream, only a dream, and it’s yours:
it was once the handlebar of a bicycle keeping the shape squeezed by a hand now, it droops from your father’s belly
it was once a son refusing to be born
now it’s you
crawling back to that handlebar you’ve dreamed all the details
like the teeth your father dropped on the ground, glittering
and laughing at you
so you are not the death
but merely a case of death: you’ve dreamed your dream’s death.


Trans. Ming Di (2013)

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