(i)
From pewter
and coin
space thinning
out into
an alabaster
beam,
the moon fills
its hollows
with gold
and lace patches.
Drink me off,
bawls out
the cream silver
spinning ball,
to the floor
of this
bloating glass
only after
a jumbo bottle
of light
has been poured in.
A glass
of moon swells
into
the donjon
tower
of a sinking
bottle,
graphite drips
of moon
melting light
into
a beaded
creep
all shaken
and
tapped off
into the glass.
O full glass
of moon
tilting
to point its
nipple
to a poet's
dry mouth,
when light
spins
skeletons
of dripping
silhouettes
melting
into corners
of the glass,
a tumbler
pouring light
into
the mouth
of a poet's pen
spinning
off a poem
to light up
the deep
dark gorge
of a drifting canyon
sinking
with a deep
ladder
into open rock,
a basement
floor
only sinking
into darker
layers
of the glass.
(ii)
O blush
and lead corners
of a tan
glass of moon,
foaming
as it drains out,
let your
soot crystals
bubble in a thin
graphite
layer and settle
with dregs
a poet must drink
to mold
a full-bodied
moon with dregs
and dark spots
to craft a poem
for the swan
that settled
a spume of light,
when the moon
had just
bounced out
of its womb
and sheep
in the moonlight
were seen
settling
by the baby moon
in an expanding
firmament
shaving off
moon's thickened
hair and feathers,
as a whimpering.
sky of moon
poured itself
into a full glass.
And a flock
of sheep
settled to dig
into deep
spaces
of the glass
to lick off
gossamer fibers
sticking
to the bottom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem