Tse Hao Guang (b. 1988)
SELECTED POEMS
hyperlinkage
There is only one rule in hyper-
linkage, to wit, you do not refer to
yourself. Keeping that in mind in
this paradise of cut-and-paste is
an endless deferral. This is a poem,
not a website. Outside it is raining.Your words are always blue and
underlined, not the blue of an eye
nor an atmosphere. This freedom—
now any word may be a sign for any
thing—disturbs me. I weary of
traversing Edens. Contractions.I stroll through the nearby garden
(sky's another shade of blue now),
I book a reading room in the library,
I wonder when our paths will next
fork towards each other. My novels
talk to each other, making essays.
Who can speak in hyperlink?
I can only say a name, sometimes
sounding like the ozone breeze post-
pour, sometimes like a knife wound,
furtive, again, like a touch typist alone
in a room, again, again, and again.
by Tse Hao Guang
from hyperlinkage (2013)
