PERSONAL GEOGRAPHY

Co-translator: Antony Dunn

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Others can not see
the blank airspace of crows higher than the hill
the park convulsing its green　　convulsing
the womb-wall muscle　　giving birth
to spring cried out by the petals in their expanse
　　The map of your palm holds all of the stories
weaves slantwise into this street　　says nothing
but has changed　　the combination lock of the trees
spins back one past year　　and spins again
and all the birdsong crushed to death flips back into the branches
water indulges its own fantasies　　the loneliness of all things
nailed by a hook in human form
　　Others can not see　　under the hammering sun
you walk unknowing into this afternoon
following a guidebook of darkness