Of The Plan On Kissing You


In a dark, damp site, shall we practice
A kind of magic
Your ballad-loving lips
My lips that is exhausted of the unsettling secrecy
Let us trade them both?
So that you will understand
How it feels like
So that I comprehend the beauty of poems


There are a flock of drunkards
A dog startled by your scent
Shall we discuss a random page in a newspaper
or the author stealing other’s plot?

When the drunkards have moved
and the dog has aimlessly ran away
Recite that poem, while silence gather
upon my own

when the time comes, they will exchange places

Your poem oscillates against the silence of my lips

My quiescence blooms against the ode of your lips