SUNDAY SPARROWS I really want to sing a sparrow''s song That small body''s flame flies across the distance of a footstep A risky idea so agilely burrows itself into the clouds After a gust of wind, innumerable points of light appear in the sky as if abrupt sunlight is oppressing the trees The trees sway then rapidly regain control over wild vertigo I really want to hold onto this moment when the sparrow and I gaze at each other for the length of time it takes to wait a lifetime. Let the allusions in the mirror persist until the real dreamland arrives! Commoners among birds with short feathers covering clumsy determination When premonitions of disaster draw near, claps of thunder come ringing through the air It''s as if all the angels who manage sleep have asked for lodging beneath the eaves and they''re staring blankly into a corner of long sky. O, sparrows, I want to sing a song for you but I''ve been aching with hunger for so long (Written while in prison for participating in the 1989 protests) DEATH AND PRAISE (selections) 2 I can''t hear the buzzing hive in her heart-- the melancholy young woman in sunlight--I can only use my hands to listen. At the end of the corridor that leads to spring she stands like a flag asleep in the wind. A crimson flag fills the sky with gunpowder. And outside, the pure rose garden disappears from the outlines of her shoulders. Rose buds seem to adorn an even tenser atmosphere. The hive and the buzzing sunlight confine the young woman.

Distress makes her become like earth''s milk flowing into the hidden places of youth. This sprightly profile of beauty passes back and forth. The hive in the heart of the girl who signed a contract with death pours out melancholy for her. 5 We know very little about the principles of death just as we know almost nothing about the difficulties of objects. When a hand grabs hold of bird shadows, it flies but then measurement grabs that hand in its hand. Sinking into deep defeat and crying in grief. A lantern on the crane''s leg guides stones in flight and quickly enters the forgotten realm. What brilliant measurement will lead us back to our interest in listening? The stones in the river dream of the stones on the riverbank.

The birds are far from the moon that stands on the water''s surface. The beautiful woman of the silver-gray night uses her beauty to disperse darkness. All creatures begin a graceful dance with snakes. The great musician plays the flute as he walks and measurement sheds gold feathers in daytime''s empty valley. 21 May makes us forget spring. The first person collapses in brilliant rays of light. His broad shoulders are the deck of the warship Blue Hope. They tilt sideways and sink into the song''s sound, carrying his heart''s hunger for belief and his mind''s final illusions.

The air separates as if a blade has cut deeply across it. His body continues its collapse. The others--his other bodies--are pulverized by light rays. June''s tires loom, pitch black. "Don''t castrate my lover!" "Don''t take away my lover!" As she pleaded, we all wept. COMMEMORATION At the mouth of the volcano a group of karst-shaped people were burned to ashes. These early saints replete with Christian melancholy wanted to build a final martyrs village in the domain of delusion. The sun sets.

Livestock are flipped like pages of a book. The few remaining caves on the ruins are like a school of belief that won''t ever open. SELF-PORTRAIT OF A BARBARIAN But I have scarce set foot in your dominion-- Laurence Stern Because I''m standing below the sacred rod I can''t see the great angel. A Polish man plays a song on a saw. The Seine River carries away secret good times. Style is sacrificed every second. A copper horse, a metal bridge, matted hair riding on passion. A single drop of blood in the heart banishes me to the night sky of emptiness.

Applause rings out in the theater. Bhutanese gods don their masks. I come from the ruins of a dark night. I want to pray for all souls in mourning. This one-horned monster hasn''t yet been born in Europe''s line of sight. LANDSCAPE SEEN THROUGH AN EAGLE''S EYE 1 There are only rocks and snow, black and white Deep in winter, the river no longer flows Pine trees don glass nets 2 The rocks'' height, the peaks'' height can''t be replaced by anything except what snow covers 3 Flocks of swifts sleep beneath the frozen river In caves brown bears sleep soundly and groundhogs and hedgehogs fall into deep sleep, their bodies piled full of fat like snow 4 No words, no peddlers of words, no paeans to marriage or power In Tibet, an army sinks in snow gets buried by the moon''s forgetting 5 The wind is inspiration; determination is the speed at which blood flows in flight The shadow moves, then claws suddenly break the quiet 6 Necessary simplification, like fractured branches and withered leaves simplified by the earth, the way rocks tower alone, tower in splendor and become the foundation of all feeling 7 Even the frozen plain of snow is completely covered by the sun''s black fuse A landscape seen through an eagle''s eye-- A poem about distance.