|   |  don’t go to sleep, don’t Dear, the road is long yet don’t go too near the forest’s enticements, don’t lose hope write the address in snowmelt on your hand or lean on my shoulder as we pass the hazy morning lifting the transparent storm curtain we’ll arrive at where we are from a green disk of land around an old pagoda there I will guard your weary dreams and drive off the flocks of nights leaving only bronze drums, and the sun as beyond the pagoda tiny waves quietly crawl up the beach and draw back trembling |  It was a loess road in winter, lined with stones. The dust lay at rest in the indifferent sun, keeping warm in winter’s cold. Tired of walking, you said: “Don't see that empty house. Maybe it's gone. Let's sit a while on this embankment.” I knew the dried grass on this embankment. With their broken blades offering all that they had, their feelings, they said to me: “In the night, everything can change. The gentlest breeze can turn into a beast, loosing howl after wild howl.” They said: “Don't sit too long.” But you were sleeping lightly against my shoulder. Your brown hair spread across my chest so placidly, too tired even to stir in the breeze. And the sun couldn’t wait. As its sympathetic eye dimmed I lost the language to wake you. It was a loess road in winter. Night was growing in the shadows. The first star didn’t cry; it held back golden tears. Lightly you leaned on my shoulder, in the warmth of my breathing. Your lips quivered, talking in a dream. I know, you were asking your mama's forgiveness. –October 1981 |  |  |  people sleep lightly in the dark of night and sleep soundly in daytime lids drooping they smile turn their faces and go parasols turn too flowers bloom skirts lax lovers lie on green sofas in a daze fat babies and mothers sleep on stones dusty boys draw up their legs mumbling that they want to go see the black bear old men ream tobacco pipes opening their mouths painfully wide the sun too sleeps soundly breathing among pale blue flames motionless as they flicker the clouds are asbestos the lead is brand new silver distorted pain glitters in each grain of sand and the night hasn’t moved in the photo studio a wind coolly blows behind smiles of every dimension a wind coolly blows the dust is getting sleepy the camera's empty magazine is empty |  the crying lasted long through the night when the sun rose the raindrops glittered before steaming away I didn't wipe the glass I knew that the sky was blue and the trees were out there, comparing their hair clacking their castanets pretending to be huge predatory insects it all is so distant once we were weak as morning cicadas with wet wings the leaves were thick, we were young knowing nothing, not wanting to know knowing only that dreams could drift and lead us to the day clouds could walk in the wind lakewater could gather light into a glinting mirror we looked at the green green leaves I still don't want to know haven't wiped the glass ink-green waves of summer rise and fall oars knock fish split the shining current a red-swimsuit laughter keeps fading it all is so distant that summer still lingers the crying has stopped |  | Contributors next page  |
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