濃郁的情感
細細密密地織了繁華似錦的布匹
沈甸甸的 柔軟軟的

時間的沙 不知不覺地 沈沈地壓上了布匹
空間的經緯 拉呀 扯呀地
再細密的紋理 也漸漸鬆開了

漸漸 漸漸
小沙子一粒粒 手牽著手
穿透了織錦

曾經的織錦
如今只見絲絲 縷縷
好似看得出從前的斑斕色彩

但也或許只是沾染了顏料的白綾罷了

青春

我的青春歲月就這樣不知不覺地消逝無蹤

留下的只有眼角下揮之不去的斑

及日漸響應地心引力的胸部

於是  在我的青春所剩無多的時日

記憶被酒精啃嗜殆盡之前

我決定開始一點一滴撿拾舊日時光

拼湊我在紐約的青春歲月

Jackson Pollock’s One: Number 31, 1950

The work reminds me of the first-grade art classoing this “art work” where we made pictures out of cardboard paper, marbles, and watercolor. Folding up the 4 edges of thin cardboards, we made a shallow sink as our canvases; then, dipping marbles into different colors of ink/watercolor, we slightly tilted and shook the paper-sink where the marble (usually one at a time) rolled over and made traced on the paper as it moved around. We couldn’t really control the marbles since they were light in weight so most of the children made quite similar pictures in general; there were only a few variations on colors. It was the making-process that made the activity unique and fun for the children. I still remember d and splashed the ink all over myself. My memory of the activity—maybe less significant–is very much the same as how art historians remark on Pollock’s work, it is the action of making the art that made Pollock’s name in art history.

With such large scale of work, the more I stare at it, the more I am drawn into the massive chaos of the dominant black and white pigments dribbling on the canvas. It is probably too chaotic to an extent that I actually find tranquility as looking upon the work for a while. Once my eyes become used to the ceaseless and dense linear lines and dribbles on the canvas, the several white clusters of paints gradually leads me into the trance of infinity on this finite canvas; the white extends into the perpetuity while the black splashes hold me back to my time and space. It is between this to and forth of my mind that I keep the balance and maintain impersonal to the work. While gazing upon the work, I somehow hear single piano notes playing along with his splashes of paints.

I thought such breathless intensity of Pollock’s “strokes” would suffocate me. However the actual viewing experience was tranquil and calm, despite the constant interruption of people blocking and museum security staff’s commending. My logic loses track of categorizing this work; it is utterly unsystematic and goes beyond all my learned knowledge on interpreting an painting by it strokes. So I give up the attempt to analyze and simply let my mind wandering on Jackson Pollock’s canvas.

New York Public Library

在紐約市立圖書館605座位的11:55分方向，我目擊如花一枚。自然天成的挺鼻，加上濃眉黑髮，與稍稍過濃的眼妝。Voila~ la belle!

剛剛下著大雨，幸虧雨現在好像停囉！這裡聽不見紐約市的聲音，只有偶爾斷續的人聲，翻書頁和木椅拖拉的聲響。

為什麼用中文寫這些廢話呢？因為怕被人看到嘛！總是不好讓人知道我在這兒道人長短。不過今天這兒觀光客可是出其的少，不知道是時間不對呢，還是因為下雨天。兩旁的大窗櫺不像以往灑進大片閃亮到刺眼的夏陽，反倒是點點地滲進灰色陰霾的天光。雨點附著在大窗上，某施工處飄起裊裊白煙，順勢假想那是鄉間傍晚飄起的炊煙，而我又回到了記憶某處，遠離塵囂的校園。到不是萌生起什麼避世的念頭，不過是忘記了郊區生活的單調與寂靜罷了。

這個夏天，從一個大城市遷徙踟躕到另一個紛紛擾嚷，不斷移轉的不過是停不下的腳步及闔不上的雙眼；踩遍看盡的也就是典型北半球的夏季高溫，人群蒸散出來的體溫夾雜著無止盡喧譁。我幻想著在這些地方張貼上禁鳴喇叭的告示，對著人群按下靜音按鈕，再用橡皮擦擦掉幾個哭鬧不止的小孩，抹去一點未成年女生的濃妝，扯下幾條掛在男孩髖部的垮褲…想著想著，做了自己世界的法西斯統治者，箝固了不同想法的流竄，止住了不同聲部不和諧的齊唱，一切就又都平庸無趣了. 安靜，如同我在小比星球慢跑的湖邊。

Une Voyageure comme moi...

Arriving when the train was departing,

Waking up when the street lamps were still glimmering,

Expecting when the frigid air was running rushing the city...

I was a voyageur full-loaded with unpacked Joy from Paris



Looking back at where I was, I've embarked to yet another journey to the Nerverland. With slight delay, I have been held to stay on a fascinating island called Manhattan. I thought of unpacking my baggages and left some of the trivial pieces here so I could travel light. But I somehow stay, the unpacking becomes a status, the packing day doesn't seem to be near. As I slowly examine those trivialities from the past, they accumulate , forming overwhalming waves that wash me off to the shore of my Neverland. I see my traces, and yours, imprinted there, for good...

For my dear friends, wherever you are, I've been most fortunate to have you on my journeys.

*Special thanks to JohnWu's dedication in keeping memories alive through his lenses.

Silent Journey

The silence continues.

He continually drives on without spitting out a word, staring straight ahead. I look out of the window on my side; the sky over the barren winter plain is unreasonably orange. I can't tell if this is the sunset or it's just another cloudy gray day. I've already given up trying to start up another conversation. Just let the music fills this enclosed space. We are driving on the highway, 110 km/hr; I feel not the speed but the still air in the car.

This is something that I've never expected. He drives fast and well, as he always does. Somehow, he is too concentrated on his driving. Or, there are some other reasons? There is something on his mind? I enjoyed the merry air when we talked. It was always like a never-ending conversation. Simply couldn't put an end to our chat. I'm still me, and he's still the person I talked to a few weeks ago, but it just doesn't feel right. The winter wasteland, I observe. Indeed it needs to be covered by the snow, otherwise the land is simply too, ugh, barren earth, there's nothing.

Our music preferences match well. I like the music he plays. Maybe I am too lazy to talk; maybe, I just want to enjoy the music.

On a second thought, it seems that I was the person who did the talking all the time. He has been a good listener; never really care for giving speeches. Or maybe he did talk a lot? I don't quite remember if this is accurate or not. I close my eyes.

He keeps on driving. He says nothing. I fall asleep.

Peaceful. But still, I think about all the pleasant conversations we had. The day is getting darker. It is getting darker much earlier these days. Soon the darkness and silence will occupy the space. Does he notice this? The silence.

I glance at the electronic clock on his dashboard. I know we will arrive at our destination soon. A bit relief, however, I fell somewhat disappointed. The time we have together is not much. We, maybe, I, don't have much time to spend on this silence. Soon we'll be apart. "A quiet trip," he will announce to his friends. And I, I am not sure what images I will have of this voyage later.

"Ok, here we are!" He makes a right turn and then parks the car in front of the garage, nice and smooth...

天窗

今天台北下雨
我在聽 Kings of Convenience

我告訴你 我突然想起你的天窗
在窗外是小比星球灰陰的天空
閉上眼 就是你的窗
灰白的雲 鋪天蓋地 卻微微透出天光
時間久了也就習慣這樣的陰雨日子
之後才想起我的房間
也是聽著音樂 躺在地上看天空
沒有飛鳥 沒有樹梢 沒有飛機 沒有電線

我還在看著天
等著還沒來的人 等還沒打來的電話
等著等著 我就點了菸
用煙薰一薰空空的房間 好像就不那麼空了
手裡拿著一 隻菸
人才不會陷入綿綿白雲似的時間

你說讓我把這些話寫成一首詩
我的詩似乎未完
我也等著接續
但是天就要暗了 千里路迢迢
去了 就回不來了

一堆髒衣服在牆腳靜靜地撕咬
還是去洗衣服吧!