With No Malice To Crabs

Is it because life pleads with love Or love keeps longing for life I still live on Even as the hearse waits Leaning on my gate Is it because I flock With doves of your bosom And harvest poetry Zealous scalpel scarifies them Leaving wounds resembling a clown's grins And I see a hasty autumn Plucking away your wayward curls From your mane's nights Locks after locks till your face is Only an empty moon on a purple pillow I find myself in a dream In a deserted garden Under a thundering sky Chipping away lumps of frozen tears From the bust of Venus And I see eyes of the goddess As blank as fate's promises When I wake up I see you in deep slumber Like a ripening ear of rice Swaying in gentle lullaby of lazy winds And I wonder Had it not been for the mutinous cells You would be dancing in the rain by now Sprinkling on my face drops of wet laughter Letting your rain-soaked tresses loose wildly In sweet drunkeness Somewhere in the mountains But then Hoping for the days Where cicadas dream to whisper like snow Where pine twigs burn like incense in bushfires Where sparrows tell stories to pumpkins on thatched roofs Where cows return home in gold dust of a bronze sunset Where before the sun drowns itself in the red river You once raised Hem of your dress above the blue veins on your ankles And waded in foamy waves carefreely I'm left with nothing But to curse the uprising bluntly With no malice to crabs