Terminus: Sheshan, Though We Never Meant to Reach It | Museum-Quality Art Print

Office buildings
staring at each other—
long and wordless.
Their skin, smooth;
their brows, upright—
like most tired people.
The plane trees,
never truly seen,
sway in a blue-silent afternoon,
pretending to die,
confessing
in red lies
to one another.
Rain falls—
the earth receives it
naturally,
like that day
we went to the river
and soaked
our toes,
the edge of our spring clothes.
"No cats in this poem.
They've all run elsewhere."
No questions.
No plans.
There’s still time tonight.
We both know—
sleep won't come just yet.
And it’ll be a long, long while
before we can’t wake up anymore.
A flicker—
then the light dies
for good.
People
briefly free.
Finally,
a glimpse—
spring, from inside a surveillance feed.
How lovely—
that on the road to find you,
everything
suddenly holds a secret.
The wind whispers.
Lovers kiss.
The moon falls.

办公区域的楼宇们
施行着长久无声的对视
它们的皮肤光洁、额头耸立就像大多困倦的人们
从未被真正注视的梧桐树
在默声又湛蓝的午后随风摇摆，继续伪装死亡
以红色的谗言相互告解
雨落下来，泥土接住
自然得就像上次我们前往一条河边
弄湿我们的脚趾和刚换出来的春装一角
「这首诗里没有猫、
猫都跑到了别处。」
无人质询，也不至做约
夜晚还有一些时间
你我都很清楚——
我们还有一会儿才会睡去
我们还有很久、很久
才无法醒来
灯闪烁几下，然后永远灭掉
人们随后获得短暂的自由
终于得到一种窥伺
——摄像头里的春天
真好啊，前去寻你的路上
万物便都有了心事
夜风簌簌
恋人在接吻
月亮在下坠