At a Right Angle to Paper Poem by Yang Lian

At a right angle to paper you grasp A wisp of morning mist a tranquil tree on a grave Sky awakening in the bedroom Young women at odds naked frenzied stalk A daytime walnut destroys the evidence of the brain's crime Alcohol all year round sustains a headache Holding tight forks at a table sparkling with the sea The world puts eyes into mouths A poem that has never been finished At a right angle to paper just written on an epitaph Is washed over by the river on floorboards Blood nailed up as a ladder with two frozen legs Is taken along to the crowds panic buying trash Another morning preserving the cruelty of clocks At a right angle to a derelict street it says This is not the last time for you to come down on paper