Army of Shadows


Love has meaning for me
I once laid
I’d want to be killed.
of condemned men.

your transmissions.
the walls with explosives.
You can suffocate.
her real identity
our game before lights out.

The walls are paper-thin.
Those are the givens
nothing but memories.
It’s a cone-shaped container
After you’re gone.

The Catholic teacher
without a sound, as usual.
Do it the right way.
like a frightened animal.
Nothing’s sacred anymore.

a safer spot.
to swallow his cyanide capsule
See to your arm and thigh.
whom I still love,
We always confide

The cellar connects
Nothing at all.
You’ll find a razor on the table.
Memorize it.

and unable to commit suicide.
I store up heat.
You know her memory.
Traveling salesman.

His wishes came true
died one night
In the shooting range,
To each his own troubles.
Nothing in writing.


Grass Labyrinth


Your mother is near you.
crossing oceans
With a red ribbon in her hair,
and hangs a woman’s soul
one, two, three years
In any case, like a bird in a cage.
moonlit evening,
She committed suicide

her husband raped.
destined to marry.
Leaving your body behind,
In her hand mirror,
She sent me a lot of love poems.
closes the door
She is a nymphomaniac,
One a lacquered box,

Peonies, lilies, poppies.
you disappear right in front of me.
Darkness fell in front of
Well, I’m at a loss.
Please sing.
nothing new in the world.

Please, please remember.
You will remain my son forever.
the graveyard.
besides me.
for over a month.
those songs.
Her dead body was swept
and runs away from her.

floats something round.
After that, just the melody.
It’s that song.
While waiting for the man,
Searching for
That’s all I remember.
I have no mother.
upon the shore.


Three Times


She wrote to me
It’s still vivid, like a bird
So celebrate when you feel
the tears of the oppressed
Your mother told me
I think of you, I think of you
more than you love me

One poem read…
Fractured bones, a hole in the heart
It’s because their sad cries…
and then come back north
Epilepsy, almost blind
Please open your eyes

Why do seabirds wake me from my dream?
the keeping of concubines
Taipei Medical University Hospital
She left days ago
I couldn’t help shedding tears
The photos.
when you’re honest to yourself

My name is May
for marriage…
…pierce my heart
…and sink it that way
With all that has passed
May rest, such cruel sound


The Idiots


spin the bottle
Is A Religion
the very heavens shine down upon us.
She was right when she said
lost their little boy.
who has such lovely eyes
their skulls and gas them.
Every day for fifty years.

something to do with the family.
wonderful things we’ve shared.
A tired group.
A bloody mess.
Gang bang.
Deep breaths.
Lots of flags
“Les Fleurs du Mal”, 1944.

I love you.
even if it’s provisional.
Your lies are pouring out
He likes them.
All this sentimental crap
I’ve heard 17 different versions.
of every hole in your body.
BYE, Sugar.

I’ve chosen the right words.
liberated and unprejudiced,
There is one little minus.
really, really awful for you.
Not so hard.
Look, you’re floating
I’m sorry I couldn’t come to

and out of the bloody lake.
That tiny bit of paper
Sulked sulking
When she slips off the hook
The black on the left.
tied me to a decent bed.
I know sod all about knots.
Round the damned palm


Voyage in Time


What are your most enduring images
as if the wind had blown away
an iron ball to hoId
It was a circle with some volume.
sadness and loneliness…
tragedy, happiness,
with a dim light.

they love each other,
scattered here and there.
in cinema always indicates
whether it is fog or flowers.
an extraordinary white floor,
The atmosphere of mystery,
sets his wife on fire

It’s the Biblical concept.
about someone…
that was made in memory
wave has thrown out on the shore,
It’s aII in the altars
Indian, Persian, Egyptian,
Dry soil makes a noise
That imprisons whoever passes by

There is so much dust.
In memory of such a poetic story,
The mute movie.
Most regrettable is one scene
their feelings…
Is so light that cannot be kept in
where the grave was.
(continues poem in dialect)

Robert Bresson.
feII madIy in love.
Then it’s a cage
When the wheat blooms,
some rose leaves.
Then, with great pleasure
steam rises in the mornings…
is very paradox and poetic.


The Night is Young


Your lips brushed my ear
That was ten years ago…
his right arm was in a cast.
As a girl would to a boy.

He came across a love-letter
And each of us drank
his sugar…
No, Marc’s the love of my life.
The ripcord.

An infection.
that was deep down inside him,
A kind of hemophilia of tears…
Transmitted by caresses.
Yet, that’s when you leave.

Do your ventriloquist act.
On my back.
You threw sentences like knives
At the sea.
that glues us to each other,

love story,
caused by the comet,
“Never” is a word for children.
in sepulchral voices,
black lost, who saw it?

the something syndrome,
Because you have blue eyes
They’re mayflies, short-lived…
sentimental. With me,
who make love without love.

Every morning, concrete in my gut…
The grass is black,
that burns fast…
envelops everything…
from the foot of the bed,

We did something irreparable…
Like a wave that always breaks in mid-ocean,
We’ll have to stitch that.
with hundreds of beds,
you’ve read and re-read,




Our Father who art in heaven,
The boy was dark

this heart, repentant and humble.
or in the lake.
What a beast came out.
and circumcised.
from pieces of cloth or glass.

let him die in peace.
thinking about?
Forever and ever.
stained glass window…
in the hospital.

Take Mary Magdalen…
What happened, happened.
About carnal love?
We’ve had our little
in our memory.

Do not despise, Lord,
You have children.
I hid them in the woods…
Male, sensuous.
died and where they’re buried.

Enemies of the People.
Good people…
A whole bed of red tulips…
poverty and obedience…
Naima by Coltrane.

Your real name is
Beautiful instrument.
This Jesus of yours
She has such beautiful hair.
If that graveyard still exists.

we’ll walk on the beach.
I can destroy you.
God willing.