On Nanling

translated by PLS

Yifu Building cracks around me. The confusing

options in an exam between section A and B, closing in from all sides

using shiny bowl to accurately catch a fish

the bell is the flood season, the crowd carries bright-colored parachutes, with force

that can break a dam. When moving, it can leave queues and chewing

one, two, three, four, five and six meals, six pieces of dambose

every mouth is participating in a meeting, every mouth is digesting

mixing with entertainment, spring enrollments, small hammers from metalworking practice

in Nanling I reside

commanding traffic, sweeping leaves, sometimes setting broken bones for streets

Apartment building II.

Each night upon wooden bed, beer foaming. Moon resting on moist shoulders

we are used to talking about driveshafts, a few deadlines

the atmospheric pressure suddenly drops. Gears rotate, into the shape of a circular island

Germany-made mechanical arms, sprinkle salt into every open window

witnessing a neon tail in the dream, dormitory floating. We

bury our heads into watermelon again

on an operating table in Nanling, a few promises slowly softened

egg yolks sliding into bulging pancakes on Panshi Road, ecological cycles

fully fed means despondency. After adeptly traversing through moonlight

his medium rare back

slowly-y-y oozing dark ink