Words are the poison in a song
on the track of the song’s night road
police sirens aftertaste
the alcohol of sleepwalkers
waking up, a headache
like the window’s transparent speakers
from silence to a roar
learning to waste a life
I hover in the birdcalls
crying never
when the storms have filled up with gas
light rays snatch the letter
unfold it and tear it up
Bei Dao
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