A Corpse and a Wasp

After Yang Lian

The fishermen salvage jubilantly with no gains but drops of wet cigarettes ends. A small beam of light immerses into the deep gap between the nothingness and the whole. Drifting from east bay to northeast shore, skins fall off scales to replace.

The half burned letter soaked in the trench. Rain washes off the traces of souls which wandered on the street of unknowns.

To change for a face affectionate, the taste of the surname drip off from the tip of the blued tongue.

Expecting a gigantic ship loaded it with the hope of reincarnation. Tomorrow will be a part of history. The anonymous donor gives a poem to a corpse on the dock in June.

For the reunion of the continents, the underground volcano shakes the silent century. A phosphorescent wasp just escaped out of the bottle falls into another tenderness of fate.

Stuffing nostalgia into marmalade, the drunk smell of the dawn is concealed. The bargain of characters and letters lost track of calendar meetings. To reach the twig above the water,* memories in need of investigation.