An early poem of mine, and Georges Bataille's words...

*About that lone rose flowering in snow, in the deep of winter, flushed and intoxicated with foolishly drunken ecstasy... Those flickering, dying flames setting her ablaze...*

The frozen time, stagnated, you are
the language, flowing for ever. You are
blinded by the black mists. There is a dim light, tinkling.
But seeing through your eyes,
the world is swooning and blurred.
A flower dies in the blink of an eye, and
a flower blooms in the withered twilight.

...... 流光

*     *     *

"And I think that in literature we can see the human perspective in its entirety, because literature doesn't permit us to live without seeing human nature under its most violent aspect. [...] And finally, it's literature that makes it possible for us to perceive the worst and learn how to confront it, how to overcome. In short, a man who plays finds in the game the force to overcome what the game contains of horror."


The night is my nudity
the stars are my teeth
I throw myself among the dead
dressed in white sunlight

~Georges Bataille, "I throw myself among the dead," from The Impossible