Bloomer

I stare through my sleep so much
That I see through it, burn through the stem of it.
As I understand the metamorphosis
From stem to straw, the turning
From old cellulose to stark hollows,

Fibres crack and bind—strong stem, the absence of
Substance through which a squashed impasse built
For dreams in constant movement and fixation,
Permeating the roots of darkness to a warmer day.
A better day, towards light that

In a better hour I, myself should pass too,
Through, and grow.
Efflorescing like mad liquid,
Filling heads with destined roles. Expanding and forming
Forever into the wildest bloom.

Dale Chou
2013-02-01