Let the sun burn through me
—dedicated to Sasa

Let the sun burn through me.

Let the sun burn through my guts.
Let the sun set fire to paper and turn and toil the words that thrust

The pen like a sword that cuts
Through crust of rust and settled dust—stir stars, make light, make allowance,

Stare right into the improlific glare
Of deep universe

And soar high, high above the metallic gates of fire.
I scream the names of light that transcend and digress

And meander into consciousness. I rework fire
To give it the quality of a feather;

And light,
To make it solid.

When I'm done, I sit stony
And silent,

With my windows and glasses ready,
And a hole right through me—

Container of light—and all that is warm inside,
Charring even the cinders of existence.

Dale Chou
2012-04-07