BEI DAO'S UNDERWORLD

During the months
of undiscovered death
admitting exiled life
is planted for you
as for every poet
who like words
in the origin
of languages
is born to travel
in a refrain of grief
toward land and ocean
to seek from thirst
and hunger
for the sun's brief hour
to save metaphors
from oblivion
on a rainbow leeway
driving past crowded roads
in a remaining search
of a runaway on a highway
and motion for a hand
to pick you up
as a flower.