from “Rubble Mountain”
The color of a doormat
The woman with the [blank space] in her eye
The sex of my tongue, this insect
A comet bigger than your toe
Fill this sound
In the larval stage, my bride
So the word clogged with sleep
She who. Said I. Made love to.
My nose, the tallest site for miles
To rub saliva on the wings of a moth
Dearest dung heap, one day you a mountain shall be
Cheng Hui’s (fl. 1210) reference to “dung heap” indicates this was a place for him to drop lines intended for future poems, or lines fallen from failed poems. Either way, this is a rare look at the poet and his writing process. Some will marvel at how contemporary these lines sound. I would say: how timeless the fragmentary.
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