A train runs on a single line along the gorge
monkeys have given up on evolution
familiar bagpipe sounds are receding
and I have no choice but to continue writing poetry

A mother sits on a sofa, nursing her baby
a sudden explosion surprises a midday street corner
opinions are noisily voiced in a new morning
a youth is sulky, reading comics

so what do they matter?
An official history lines up only heroes
projecting old scarred images
and I have no choice but to continue writing poetry

I cannot find the end
because I don’t know the beginning
Day after day I live with doubts about believing
Only the sky is limitless, like salvation

I live with refuse that has no place to go to
forgetting the names of missing persons
pawning off offerings to the altar
unable to distinguish nanometers from light years

Asked about pros and cons in rapid succession
I dodge my swaying moods
I seek supreme bliss deeper than meaning
I have no choice but to continue writing poetry