〈Sleepwalking in Maoli Village〉

 

(1) May Snow

In May, the swirling snowflakes stage a detective play.

Amid the suspense, one keeps believing

some incredible plot is about to unfold,

with snowflakes setting the scene,

sliding down the sunlit slopes.

The tung trees have all cross-dressed

into sticks of cotton candy,

while the sun’s fingers keep busy with a puzzle.

 

A chimney leans toward the lake,

where swans, uneasy, blow smoke rings into ripples.

On violin strings hang rows of sausages;

a few crooked notes gather into an interlude.

Open the skylight—guilty stars

twitch and convulse without end,

confessing under the long lens’s relentless interrogation:

the Hakka tea-picking maiden

removes her bamboo hat,

rushing to a dating show recording.

 

These scattered blossoms across the hills,

with mountain songs and audiences

leisurely calling in,

are better edited into a sixty-second MV

than read out stiffly from a manuscript,

pretending tung blossoms scatter—

cotton candy at the lips dropping sesame now and then,

brilliant as the moment in adolescence

when one first encounters the opposite sex:

that inexpressible yearning,

that love difficult to recount…

 

(2) The Broken Bridge of Yutengping

The red-brick arch bridge stretches out its arms,

joining together the veins of the railway.

Then the exchange of people and goods

comes alive with vigor.

The steam engine’s magnetic voice,

the bold, rough friction

of wheels and rails—

all become the duet of orioles and larks

singing through mountains and valleys in spring.

 

Standing beneath the pier, looking up—

the giant’s bare feet towering above.

The whistle’s echo swells, from slow to urgent,

since the tenth year of Shōwa,

drawing near, then rushing off

into the vast new century.

The back of Inagaki Heitarō

crossing the bridge

was a setting sun

slipping slowly beyond the tracks.

 

Countless vines crawl up the red-brick walls,

moss wiping away the pier’s numbers.

But they are not trivial decimals

deleted by history;

they are a sentiment,

a tangle like rumor and scandal,

to be cherished only in secret,

without knowing how to speak…

 

(3) Zhunan Snake Kiln

Bathed in tongues of pure blue flame,

the ceramics in the serpent’s belly

sing the Tuesday Fire Song, sweating profusely.

About to be reborn, they imagine

once glazed and painted,

they will step onto the stage

with roles and forms of their own—

no longer the clay blanks outside the kiln,

wandering in dreams,

kneaded, pulled, and beaten,

still unable to grasp

why the spinning wheel holds

not a tickling phonograph needle,

but fingers obeying joints,

picky, probing without pause.

(At such deliberate intimacy,

they are helpless, resentful.)

 

Those fingerprints have nothing to do

with a case at trial.

 

Then, in the cooling process,

the ceramics begin to reflect:

once fixed in shape,

they must face their destiny—

to be displayed,

judged from every angle.

Like blossoms opening,

ignorant yet graceful and docile,

to satisfy collectors’ vanity and fetishes:

fit to be archived,

fit to become symbols of status and rank.

 

As for beauty—

merely powders once hypnotized,

patterns of gilded glaze,

images scattered,

ornamental, dispensable…

 

This poem won 2nd Prize, New Poetry Category,

2007 Miaoli County “Dream Blossom” Literature Award.

〈夢遊貓貍社〉                

（一）五月雪

五月，繽紛的雪花是齣推理劇

懸疑的氛圍裡，以為總有些不可思議的

情節，即將在雪花的烘托下順序登楊

向陽的坡面，油桐樹都反串成一支支棉花糖了

而陽光的手指還忙著拼圖遊戲

煙囱貼到湖面，微波裡，天鵝忐忑不安地吐著煙圈

小提琴的琴絃上掛著一排灌腸

一些歪嘴斜眼的音符適時湊和出插曲

打開天窗，心虛的星星不停地抽搐著

在長鏡頭的反覆逼問下

全盤翻供，說採茶的客家村姑

摘下斗笠，趕著去參加婚友節目錄影

這滿山遍野的花絮，配上山歌和觀眾

好整以暇的現場叩應

不如剪輯成六十秒鐘的MV

總比勉強唸著乾稿，想像桐花點點

嘴角邊的棉花糖，不時有芝麻掉落下來

繽紛，如青春期裡初次邂逅的異性

難以追述的思慕和愛戀……
（二）魚藤坪斷橋

紅磚拱橋張開雙臂

把鐵道的脈絡接合起來

人與物資的交流，便有了活力

那蒸氣車頭磁性的嗓音，車輪與鐵軌

豪邁粗獷的金屬磨擦

是春天，高山深谷間動人的

黃鶯與雲雀的合唱

 

站在橋墩底下，仰望

巨人的大腳丫子，山谷間

汽笛的回音由緩而急，自昭和十年

駛近身來，隨即奔向蒼茫的新世紀

稻垣兵太郎的背影，行過橋面

是一輪夕陽，緩緩消失在鐵道彼端

無數魚藤爬上紅磚牆垣，青苔拭去磚壁上

橋墩的編號，但那不是被歷史註銷

微不足道的小數，而是一份情懷

一如緋聞那般糾纒，只能暗自緬懷

不知如何啓齒……
（三）竹南蛇窯

沐浴在純青火舌裡，蛇腹裡的陶瓷

滿頭大汗地張口合唱火曜日之歌

即將脫胎的他們，想像著一旦穿上釉彩

粉墨之後登場上架，就有了自己的角色與形象

不再是窯外，渾渾噩噩地還做著夢的黏土胚

任人揉捻拉扯捶打，仍搞不清楚旋轉盤上

為什麼不是放著搔癢的唱針

而是一些聽命於關節，不停挑剔的手指頭

（對於這種刻意的親密，它們無奈且相當反感）

那些指紋，無關乎膠著的案情

 

接著，在冷卻的過程裡

陶瓷開始反省，被定型了以後

即將面對的命運：陳列展示

接受不同眼光的評頭論足

像綻開的花朶，無知且優雅溫馴

以便於滿足收藏家們的虛榮心和戀物癖

適宜典藏，適宜成為表彰身份與地位的符碼

而美感，只是一些被催眠過的粉末

一些顏料妝扮下的流金圖案

意象紛芸，可有可無的附麗……

 

本詩獲2007年苗栗縣夢花文學獎新詩第二名