Monday, June 13, 2016

A Yuhan Poem

No Windmill Is Real

The red wine and coffee
the Alfred Hrdlicka stone carvings
the vineyard, the medieval castles
they all display a different light
painted in a pool of country green

When the thunder comes
half the sky is dark, the other half is bright
with the blue and red of space

Then I see a rough red hue along
a window that doesn’t belong to me
liverworts growing in concrete windmills
not Oedipus fleeing his divine predictions

The mysterious mood is stolen
order confronts the mess
a little old, a little depressed
the sun visits Le Corbusier’s chapel
and removes my breath and stomach

The Just reside on Easter Island
where metal towers and gypsum mines
will gladly crush the Spirit

I’ll give you both of them
I’ll give you the madness
of kindergarten children

This morning a boy didn’t eat his breakfast
he smiled at me in the Garden
he said he didn’t know the name 

of the sweet fragrance from Heaven.


Version by Rob Schackne (2016)

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