My Body Nurses the (K)night
I must hurt you to save you.
I must listen to love you.
You are bewitched, deluged
with my Leaden Canadian Poems.
O Twanged love, you can leave
my stubborn strains behind.
Your life must go on,
My life must go on.
In our shoreline, the lyric boat
has already left for the heaven.
Where are your green candles
to light up your fingering feet?
The zealous zither sings jealous for Gillers,
on your heavy footsteps towards Griffins.
Raise your asbestos face to see over the sea
the dark polka dots of the Morning Calm.
Don’t tickle your withdrawing mind
in the long fractal waves of your life.
My deep voice can nurture and chirp
your mockingbirds inside you.
Go away! Your condolence can’t sleep
my vanishing desires, ungrateful,
shuddering in your audience
to my cruel sorcerer’s memory.
Your pavane will never sing again
my crescent music more elegantly.
Go away, your lip-changing bugler!
My marching moans are measuring
the dark dreary ditches of your heart.
You cannot show the love’s nature.
All the innocent epics cannot sheet
the smoking scents of poetic sacrifice.
O Nurturing death gasps and creeps
into the satin Leagued Crippled Poets!
* * *
Stevens Taeho Han, literary critic and Zen poet, short-listed for CBC Literary Award (Poetry) in 2009, interested in exploring an innovative poetics of Zen poetics, based on Cognitive Rhetoric.