it is my fertile land,
it shouldn’t be dry,
it is my land, makes me earring the light voice,
it is my land, me, my eyes, finding so many seeds,
it is my land, landing me the corner of library, feeding my imagination and feeling,
it is my land, many communal mother lang over the selfhood,
my land, i, i, tell, my land
my land tells me, my land tells me, my land, me tells, i love poetry,
not only my land, but the land of love,
i am singing through me, my body, poetry, is singing me,
ma land, and your land, we share some love.
so love. don’t worry.

sun goes and comes back to me after 3 6 5
days
later to the same place.

poetry does so. it comes from my mouth and my staring eyes. gently goes to the corner of the library. poetry goes far and very far to my beloved person’s mouth, ( pause ) leaking , (p a u s eee) falling and unsung the song of unsung. poetry does so.
maybe not 3 6 5, probably 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 seconds later, poetry comes back to me.