我想要回我的摇椅，

i want back my rocking chairs,

唯我论的日落，

solipsist sunsets,

还有海岸丛林的声响——知了的三行诗和蟑螂毛腿敲出的五音步。

& coastal jungle sounds that are tercets from cicadas and pentameter from the hairy legs of cockroaches.

我把《圣经》捐给了旧货店

i’ve donated bibles to thrift stores

（把它们塞进塑料垃圾袋里，

(mashed them in plastic trash bags with an acidic himalayan salt lamp—

和一盏酸性的喜马拉雅盐灯一起——

the post-baptism bibles, the ones plucked from street corners from the meaty hands of zealots, the dumbed-down, easy-to-read, parasitic kind):

那些受洗之后的圣经，那些从街角

从狂信者肉乎乎的手中夺下来的，那些被降智、易读、像寄生物一样的版本）：

remember more the slick rubber smell of high gloss biology textbook pictures; they burned the hairs inside my nostrils,

& salt & ink that rubbed off on my palms.

让我记忆更深的是光面生物教材图片里滑腻的橡胶气味；它们灼烧了我鼻腔里的细毛，

under clippings of the moon at two forty five AM I study&repeat

还有在掌心揉搓和脱落的盐粒与油墨。

               ribosome

在凌晨两点四十五分月亮被剪碎的光影下，我学习和重复：

               endoplasmic—

               lactic acid

核糖体

               stamen

内质网——

乳酸

at the IHOP on the corner of powers and stetson hills—

雄蕊

i repeated & scribbled until it picked its way & stagnated somewhere i can’t point to anymore, maybe my gut—

在鲍尔斯路/斯特森山街拐角处的那家“国际饼屋”里——

maybe there in-between my pancreas & large intestine is the piddly brook of my soul.

我一遍遍重复、涂写，它摸索着前行，直到停滞在某个我说不清楚的部位——

it’s the ruler by which i reduce all things now; hard-edged & splintering from knowledge that used to sit, a cloth against fevered forehead.

也许是在我的肠胃——也许是在胰腺与大肠之间，那条细细的、可怜的小溪——我的灵魂。

can i let them both be? this fickle faith and this college science that heckles from the back of the classroom

如今我用它来丈量一切；这种知识有着锋利的棱刺——它曾经让我坐在上面，或者像一块布敷在发烧的额头上。

               now i can’t believe—

我能否让它们并存？这反复无常的信仰，以及这科学——大学教室后排传来的讥笑。

               that the bible and qur’an and bhagavad gita are sliding long hairs behind my ear like mom used to & exhaling from their mouths “make room for wonder”—

all my understanding dribbles down the chin onto the chest & is summarized as:

现在我无法再相信——

life is merely

《圣经》《古兰经》《薄伽梵歌》会像母亲那样把我的长发掖到我耳后，从它们的口中呼出“留一点空间给奇迹”——

to ovum and sperm

我所有的理解顺着下巴滴落到胸口——一言以蔽之：

and where those two meet

and how often and how well

生命不过是

and what dies there.

卵子与精子，

它们相遇的地方，

相遇的次数与质量，

以及在那里死去的东西。