Most explicit
the sense of trap
as a narrowing
cone1 one's got
stuck into and
any movement
forward simply
wedges once more
but where
or quite when，
even with whom，
since now there is no one
quite with youQuite？ Quiet？
English expression： Quait？
Language of singular
impedance？ A dance？ An
involuntary gesture to
others not there？ What's
wrong here？ How
reach out to the
other side all
others live on as
now you see the
two doctors， behind
you， in mind's eye，
probe into your anus，
or ass2， or bottom，
behind you， the roto-
rooter-like device
sees all up， concludes
like a worn-out inner tube，
old， prose prolapsed， person's
problems won't do， must
cut into， cut out . . .
The world is a round but
diminishing ball， a spherical3
ice cube， a dusty
joke， a fading，
faint echo of its
former self but remembers，
sometimes， its past， sees
friends， places， reflections，
talks to itself in a fond，
judgemental murmur4，
alone at last.
I stood so close
to you I could have
reached out and
touched you just
as you turned
over and began to
snore not unattractively，
no， never less than
attractively， my love，
my lovebut in this
curiously5 glowing dark， this
finite emptiness， you， you， you
are crucial， hear the
whimpering back of
the talk， the approaching
fears when I may
cease to be me， all
lost or rather lumped
here in a retrograded，
dislocating， imploding6
self， a uselessness
talks， even if finally to no one，
talks and talks.