Poem of the Week

Everything becomes small

only the ocean makes the night’s leather clothes

open up the further out it spreads.

Flying north

to the right is Tianjin

to the left is Beijing

two clusters of moths flinging themselves at fire.

Then the East China Sea suddenly moves

the wind brings silver bits that can’t be more shattered

and many thick wrinkles whip up

I see the face of the ocean

I see the aged seashore

trembling and hugging the world too tightly.

I have seen death

but never seen death come back to life like that.