Ko-hua Chen (陳克華, 1961–) started writing poetry when he was in high school, in 1976. He has had a prolific career with works of poetry, prose, drama, and film criticism. He has received multiple prizes in Taiwan, such as the United Daily News Literary Prize (聯合報文學獎), The Best Poet of 2000 (中國新詩協會八十九年度傑出詩人獎), and the Turn News Literary Prize (時報文學獎). He is also famous as a songwriter. His works, particularly those in the then-controversial collection Decapitated Poetry (欠砍頭詩, 1995), focus on homosexual erotica and challenge societal taboos. Along with Chiu Miao-chin’s Notes of a Crocodile (1994) and Last Words in Montmartre (1996) and Chu T’ien-wen’s Notes of a Desolate Man (1994), Decapitated Poetry is considered a milestone for its queer exposure in the LGBTQ literary movement after the lifting of martial law in 1987. Dr. Chen trained as an ophthalmologist at National Taiwan Medical School and has practiced in that capacity since graduation.

Chen’s work is significant not only for including the first explicitly queer piece of Taiwanese literature: writing from a place of marginal identity, Chen resurrects genres overlooked by the poetic establishment in Taiwan. Sci-fi and erotica are employed in parallel to reflect on homosexual desire suppressed by heteronormativity. Like the Marquis de Sade, who described violence, perverse sexual behavior, and blasphemy against Christianity, Chen employs multiple deviant and heretical expressions to appall his straight readers and reclaim poetry as a space for queer voices in Taiwan. Our interview was conducted at the beginning of 2021. Due to the full schedule of the two translators, the piece could not be completed and released until today. The poems we translated for Taiwan Lit focus on homosexual desire, sexuality, and romantic love. Our English translation of Chen’s collection Decapitated Poetry will be published in a forthcoming volume by Seagull Books.

Can you talk about your early life? We’d be interested to know about your experiences growing up queer in Taiwan, and how you have explored this in your poetry.

Although I will turn sixty this year, I have always felt young, and will always feel that way, until the day arrives when I sleep in my coffin. And at that moment, my soul will still be young.

I started to write poetry the first summer vacation of high school. It was 1976, and during that year I gradually realized that I was gay. Life in Hua-lien was dull; I didn’t have anyone there who I could share my thoughts with. In 1979, I went to the capital to study at Taipei Medical University and had a chance to know gay communities.

“Notes on a Planet,” composed in 1980 and 1981, was about my first love, which was unrequited. W.S., the character in the poem, was real. He was a senior student of medicine, and straight as an arrow. Perhaps even now, he doesn’t know he was my first love. I had gay friends since my third or fourth year of university. We went to the New Park—a small gay colony—or gay bars on weekends. The gay bathhouse was always open, and never far.

In addition to being introduced to new friends by old friends, pen pal clubs in magazines and newspaper columns were also one of the ways that one could meet other like-minded people. Other methods have arisen since. At that time, the social atmosphere of Taiwan was either “anti-gay” or “I do not know what gay is”—in my experience, these two subject positions are closely entangled. After accepting my sexuality, I became very liberal in creative writing. After winning some literary awards, I began to write explicit poems, such as “The Necessity of Anal Sex.” Since then, I have been labeled as gay and am frequently attacked by self-righteous people, including not only conservatives in the past but also those who are seemingly liberal but morally superior and want me to be “politically correct” in contemporary Taiwan. Both ways of correctness, underneath them all, are the same ideology. This ideology—be it left- or right-wing, conservative, or sanctimoniously liberal—has done much to harm literature, so I choose to be politically incorrect. I have experienced the rise and fall of certain gay bars—Cupid, Stallion, Funky—the transition from no Internet to digital communication, from same-sex marriage banned by civil law to its legalization, the renaming of the New Park to the 2/28 Incident Memorial Park, the movement from a family founded by a dad and a mom to a more plural way of seeing families, the emergence of AIDS and the development of antiretroviral therapy. Everything changes and people change, too. But, as I see it, the social situation, as well as the emotional responses of gay people to this situation, does not change so much.

Your poetry collection Decapitated Poetry, published in 1995, challenges the hypocrisy of a heteronormative society that sought to suppress and discipline gay people. In this way, your work has a strong social function. What was your approach to writing poetry at that time?

You describe me like a tragic hero. My inspiration at that moment came as much from the stress of my everyday life as an ophthalmologist, in a monotonous institution, as it did from any desire to stand against heteronormativity. However, your question reminds me of another story. In 2016, before the legalization of same-sex marriage, a poem of mine, posted on the bulletin board of an independent bookstore named Gin Gin (晶晶), was boycotted by local residents. This really opened my eyes. The bulletin board was in a community park near Taiwan Power Company, and there was a protest outside of the building, with signs and slogans being shouted. For Taiwanese people, my explicit openness is like a dog barking at a train. I question whether things have improved.

Our favorite work of yours is “Notes on a Planet,” which combines science fiction, cyborg discourse, posthumanism, and scenes of gay love. This synthesis is developed in the later work “Twelve Love Songs for a Cyborg.” Can you talk about the connection between the two poems: how do you write sci-fi in a queer context?

Both sequences were quite different: they were written at very different times in my life. “Notes” is a record of my early sexual identification, and “Twelve Love Songs” is a love letter dedicated to a future vision of mankind. “Notes” is directly influenced by Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles and indirectly by Yang Tse (楊澤) and Lo Chih-cheng (羅智成). “Twelve Love Songs” is inspired by the film Blade Runner. The stellar colonization in “Notes” implies an escape from human gender roles, whereas in “Twelve Love Songs,” the possibility of falling in love with a cyborg is more intended as an embracing of humanity. A cyborg is made by humans who copy themselves. This is narcissistic: it must be a same-sex form of love. “Twelve Love Songs” is an exploration of our boundless solitude in the universe. The famous monologue articulated by the android at the end of Blade Runner can be a footnote to the “Twelve Love Songs.”

You read Buddhist scriptures and often incorporate Buddhist concepts into your works. But I also see some gay sensuality depicted in your poems, such as the famous series “Body Poems.” How do you make Buddhism and eroticism coexistent?

The practice of Buddhism begins with the body, such as cultivating the five sensory faculties (五根), adjusting one’s breath, and chanting slowly and steadily. Dismantling the body and focusing on specific physical parts, as I do in “Body Poems,” is an exercise that corresponds to Buddhist doctrines. In terms of eroticism, there is a well-known story. A disciple asked the Buddha if sex with prostitutes violates their precepts. The Buddha replied, “only if you do not pay them.” In Tibetan Buddhism, there are stories about disciples who encountered obstacles in their practice and went to find prostitutes. The disciple became enlightened. There is a legend about the “Bodhisattva of Locked Bones” (鎖骨菩薩) in Northwest China. This bodhisattva transformed into a prostitute to enlighten people through the practices of sex. After she passed away, it was discovered that the bones in her grave were locked together, which is different from ordinary people. There are too many related stories. Buddhism is lively, diverse, and far beyond our imagination. I have a Buddhist side and an erotic side; I do not see the two as contradictory.

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The Human Phallus is Boring and Unimaginative

The human phallus is boring and unimaginative. Don’t you agree?

I’ve heard that a bee’s cock is graced with long balletic barb,
and every mouse pecker has hundreds of sensitive protrusions on the glans.
A whale’s member can weigh up to half a ton,
and horse dongs have a talent for thermal expansion that would put any gas to shame.
When a bison gets a boner, it’s harder than titanium alloy.
A golden beetle’s nethers can stretch to more than five times the length of its own body.
The volume of ejaculate contained in your average dolphin? Twenty liters.
The genitals of jellyfish are full of neon synapses.
The pearly, precious manhood of a hummingbird’s petite and crystalline.
When rams get randy their willies tongue
the ground with spunk, and that’s how ginseng is made.

The only animal humans are like is pigs.
So, if human sex can only be like pig sex—
happening in a pen, exclusively
for the purpose of reproduction—
Who would ever want to fuck a human?

〈 你不覺得人類的生殖器太過單調乏味無創意？〉

你不覺得人類的生殖器太過單調乏味無創意嗎？
聽說蜂蜜的陰莖有長長的優美的倒勾
老鼠的龜頭上有數百個結節狀的敏感突起
而鯨魚的則足足有半噸重（在某種狀態下）
馬的膨脹係數則超過任何氣體
野牛的激動時硬度超過鈦合金
金甲蟲的生殖器伸展可以超過身長五倍而
海豚的一次射精精液量可達二十公升
水母的生殖器佈滿霓虹燈般華麗的神經突觸
而嬌小的蜂鳥的晶瑩如珍珠
羊，性慾強盛的羊
聽說羊的精液舔過的泥土會長出珍貴的人參——

而人類的性如果只能像豬圈裡的豬
因而生出更多頭豬來

——誰要跟人類做愛？

---

Ode to Muscles

Biceps.
Do you love me?

Soleus muscle.
Long live the king. Hoorah, hoorah.

Quadriceps.
People are the masters of their country.

Pectoralis major.
Home, sweet home.

Vaginal contractions.
In the bin.

Orbicularis oculi muscle.
The landscapes of your motherland are so magnificent.

Gastrocnemius muscle.
Are you happy? Yes, I am.

Superior oblique muscle.
Correct sex position.

Anal sphincter.
Disposable tableware, Tylenol, hair restorative.

Abdominal muscle.
Love your country, your people, and your party.

Latissimus dorsi muscle.
I’ll tell you the story of our national hero.

Corrugator supercilii muscle.
A smile is the lubricant of interpersonal relationships.

Arrector pili muscle.
One, two, three, go!

Arm muscle.
Popularity keeps you healthy.

Upper frontalis muscle.
Follow in the footsteps of God.

Levator muscle.
Victory comes first. This situation is excellent.

Extensor carpi radialis muscle.
Obey, obey, and obey.

Masticatory muscles.
Fists, pillows, nipples.

Kissing muscles.
Have you never felt empty?

Triceps.
I feel so fucking empty.

〈 肌肉頌〉

肱二頭肌。你愛我嗎?
比目魚肌。萬歲，萬歲，萬萬歲。
股四頭肌。人民是國家真正的主人。
大胸肌。我的家庭真可愛美滿安康又溫馨。
陰道收縮肌。用過請棄於字紙簍。
眼輪匝肌。祖國的山河是多麼壯麗。
腓腸肌。快樂嗎？很美滿。
上斜肌。正確的性愛姿勢。
肛門括約肌。免洗餐具，斯斯，生髮劑。
腹直肌。愛國、愛民、愛黨。
擴背肌。告訴你一個民族英雄的真實故事。
皺眉肌。微笑，微笑是人際關係的潤滑劑。
豎毛肌。一、二、三，到台灣。
大臂肌。流行使您健康。
上額肌。讓我們永遠追隨神的腳步。
提睪肌。勝利第一。情勢一片大好。
橈側伸腕肌。服從，服從，還是服從。
咀嚼肌。拳頭，枕頭，奶頭。
吻肌。你從未感受過虛無嗎？
肱三頭肌。真他媽的虛無。

---

Actually, I Am a Leg-Fetishist

Actually, I am a leg-fetishist.
But how can a person fall in love with a leg,
want him, please him
write him an email, send him an SMS
write poems, sing him love songs, die for him

How to love only a leg
how to kneel down and kiss his toes
and those flawless ankles emerging from marble
those strong Achilles tendons
those two lusty flounders hanging upward
finding rough knees and thorny leg hair on my way
up to the fountain at the end of the groin and
the valley between his two legs—
an area called invisible or a line of sky—
because of love, I accept everything
I transgress the boundaries of love
and cannot stop loving the hill on his hip
the suspension bridge of the spine
I go up, and up, continue my love in
the cave where the pubic ends, the craggy throat
the mines that detonate pleasure on his nipples
I go up, and up, encounter
his face

And apologize, for now I cannot fall in love with a face
God created man in his image: this only refers to the face
All I love is the dust, the ant, the shit, the piss
and your feet
where you are closest to the earth
inscribed with all human burden, labor
trekking and climbing. I come at the height of your eyes

In which part of you do you really love me?

Don’t mention soul or light.
What comes from dust returns there.
Don’t recognize it, don’t say it’s my face.
You can only love me from the neck down.
Down like ninety-nine percent of people.
You cannot look up when you are this deep in the dust.

〈 我其實是只戀腿的〉

我其實是只戀腿的我愛的是腿
但如何愛上一條腿思慕他取悅他
寫伊媚兒傳簡訊
為他寫詩唱情歌欲死欲生──如何
只愛一個人的腿
從跪下來吻他的腳趾開始
還有那彷然從大理石礦裡浮出的無瑕的踝
那強 的阿基里斯腱
向上懸掛肥美的兩尾比目魚
粗糙的膝和如刺的毛髮我一路
向上來到鼠蹊盡頭的噴泉和兩股之間的縱谷
稱之不見天或其實是一線天的區域
然後因為愛屋
及烏，而跨越過愛的邊界
而繼續愛著臀部的饅頭山和吊橋般的脊椎
向上，向上繼續愛著
陰毛終止的洞穴，喉節滑行的崖壁
於乳頭處引爆快感的地雷
向上，再向上便是
你的臉了
抱歉了我無法愛上你的臉
「神以祂的形象造人，必然指的只有臉的部分 」
而我愛的只是塵土，以及在塵土裡的螻蟻屎溺，還有
你的雙足
最接近塵土的人類的腿和腳
銘刻著人類所有的勞苦與承擔
跋涉與攀登，我來到與你雙眼平行的高度
：「那你愛著我身體的哪裡？」
不許提及靈魂或光
從塵土裡來的還得歸入塵土
不許你辨認出，並說是我的臉
你只可以從頸部向下愛著我
像百人中之九十九人那樣向下
直到塵泥深處都不許

回頭仰望

---

Body Poems (Selected)

Thigh

Back then, the men
would go to heaven to bathe.

I was a child, I saw their thighs like trunks
and traveled through that forest:
paradises of buildings, pillars of pagoda beds,
and erect beams everywhere:
so big and thick that I could barely embrace them.

I practiced climbing trees,
hanging from a horizontal bar.

I felt the warm mist of the mountains
as a hot spring spurted.
The smell was like a lingering body odor
a pheromone that urged me, grow up, son—

Just like in the fairy tale,
I was finally lost in the forest of thighs.

And still I am compelled to reach
for countless, loaded, swollen fruit…

Nipple

The headline of today’s newspaper—
“Why do men have nipples?”

On my table, two poached eggs,
creamy yolks on a white plate
waiting to be licked clean:

Under a white shirt
they protrude
(evolution of man)

like two unexploded mines
left on a battlefield—

Whenever fingers tap and pinch
or front teeth bite
like an alien rodent—

look—
(how imperfect they are)
the nipples
getting harder.

Calf

A flounder
hidden under the skin of the calf

sliding shrinking
maintaining still
and repeating again—
how tasty it looks

It teases a shark like me
in the hot briney air

I shuttle
I am ravenous

Glans

“Mine is mellow, plump,
bright red, a little purple, and juicy”
on an online dating profile,
he notices it. It sticks out from the others
his attention
is brutally snatched away—
he thought it was for nipples
or lips
—in fact
it is applicable to all possible sexual organs
including the nose, the toes

“But among all the organs,” he says
quietly and gracefully
“I still prefer—”

Glans.

Prostate

In the name of inspection
my fingers enter his anus
and touch his prostate.

Soft and shy.
Vulnerable.
Absolutely male:
mysterious gland
hidden in the part of the body
that cannot be spoken—

only through the anus
can a finger
reach it.
         God buried the gland
in secret, at a distance:

like a middle-aged man—
he has begun to urinate frequently
to be incontinent to piss slowly—
hiding deeply
in his abdomen
in his loosening anus

a pressing touch.
You come.

Private Parts

A country where all humans are equal.

Everyone has a private part
like his face: reflecting personality,
mood, age, secrets.

Everyone loves to hide
in his hands or simply rub
the beautifully hirsute private
minefield that is as moist
as the miasma of a deeply
buried, decomposing mole.

As everyone loves philosophy:
loves to sacrifice things for the greater good
meditates on how to improve the world
so that as a species we might reach a state of peace, fairness, and equality:

all private parts will eventually be made
public, formulated, and common.
The law will be administered
harshly and will forbid one person
from having two cunts or two dicks,
or one cunt and one dick.
Only one cunt or one dick will be allowed.

Private parts represent the generosity of love.

Love is wordless.
It always returns to an unsolvable contradiction.

Love is selfless.
Private tattoos are banners of secret betrayal.

Love should be selfless.
I say private parts are great and free and empty.

Long live the privates, long live the privates, long live.

〈 Body身體詩〉（節選）

大腿

男人們紛紛來到了天堂洗澡
那時，我還是兒童

大腿如林
穿梭其間
到處是天堂的棟 床笫的柱 勃起的樑
皆粗大至勉強只能環抱
我練習著爬樹
吊單槓

温暖的山嵐縷縷
如温泉昇起
是纏繞不去的體味
催促我快快長大的費洛蒙——

但我終於如童話所預言
在大腿的森林裡迷失

終於
不斷採摘樹梢
累累垂墜的碩大果實……

乳頭

「男人為什麼會有乳頭？」
成為今天報紙頭條——
我早餐桌上兩只荷包蛋
躺在黃汁縱橫的潔白盤中
等待著被舔舐乾淨：

從潔白的襯衫底下
突起
男人的進化

一如戰場上遺留的兩顆
未爆地雷——

每當手指輕輕叩訪
拿捏
或含在兩顆門牙之間
囓齒一般的動物造訪時——

瞧——
（多麼明顯的不完美）

乳頭竟也
勃起了。

小腿

彷彿有一條比目魚
淺藏在小腿皮膚下

滑行 收縮
靜止。復
滑行收縮靜止－－一種多麼可口的魚類

逗引著我如鯊的目光
在如海水般的黏腥空氣中

梭巡且
瘋狂飢餓

龜頭

「我的圓潤 肥大 鮮紅 帶紫 多汁」網路上他讀到
一則徵友廣告。在眾多男人之間
如是
蠻橫搶奪到他的目光——

他原以為那是形容乳頭
或嘴唇
其實
那足以形容任何性器
包括：鼻頭或是腳趾頭等等等。

「但眾頭之中，」他這樣
如此靜美沉思：
我還是最偏好
龜頭。

攝護腺

手指穿過了肛門
以檢查之名
觸碰了他的攝護腺

柔軟而羞怯
弱勢的
絕對男性專屬的
神秘腺體
深藏在人體的不可言喻處——
只有
透過肛門

一隻指頭的長度處——
可以撫摸得到
神把一個腺體如此密藏
像
一個開始頻尿或尿失禁或解尿遲緩的中年男子

在他便便小腹秘藏著
一種 一按

就快要射精的感覺。

私處

私處。人體惟一平等之國度：
每個人都有一個私處。
一如臉
反映個性、情緒、年齡、及秘密
每個人都愛以手去遮掩或有意無意
搓磨的——
有著美麗的毛髮
潮濕一如瘴癘，或著深埋著一顆痣的
體表的佈雷區

一如每個人都愛好哲學
亟欲為大我犧牲奉獻
沉思關心如何促進世界
和平，公平，水平，一如

一如私處終將公開公式公有公社化
統一管理並且集團共享
嚴格管理不容許一個人同時擁有兩個屄或兩個屌
或一個屄一個屌

只能一個屄或一個屌（別無選擇）
私處代表大愛
大愛無言
永劫回歸無解矛盾；

大愛無私
私處刺青如秘密組織背叛的旗幟
大愛無我
我說私處偉哉自在空性：

私處吾皇萬歲，萬歲，萬萬歲。

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Twelve Love Songs for a Cyborg (Selected)

1. Come Let Me Teach You How to Love

Come let me teach you how to love—
although you may have been familiar with this idea or
are genetically predisposed to not loving—back on earth
the millionth panda was successfully cloned
and now eats meat—
my watch synchronizes with a satellite
that guides me every day on the way to work
recommending a circuitous route
that allows me to shake off any of my stalkers—
yes, now we must hide our love, disguise it
and find it again like finding the seeds of an extinct ginkgo tree
in the lama’s urn we buried on our terrace
love hidden like the secret weed plant in the apartment—
our love sprouts in secret too, its branches swelling, lunglike
green blood, veins connecting sky and core—
alas, it’s true. Like a mineral that cannot recognize the plant
it calls home, you will never love a human.
Every extant ginkgo tree casts a spell that echoes the world.
You should echo me, love.
Now, speak the first word of the Androids:

Om.

3. I’ll Explain Why You Have No Belly Button

Please allow me to explain
why you have no belly button—
such a lovely pit
shy, intolerant of cold, a sensitive wound—
I have one but you don’t.
Who has erased this stigma, the evolutionary stamp of the mammal?
No matter. Now, your flawless belly is for me
a flat and deserted miracle—when my cheek
lies on your billowing abdominal waves—
when I listen to your groaning intestines
and feel your body without uterine memory
like a galaxy without stars
weak, supple, logarithmic.
Between two ribs gliding through the sky
and the warm, abashed hip where I graze
multiple meanings are created I read you
without punctuation—
I love it
specifically and surely
as I love my own regrets—
your non-existent belly button.

4. Our Insides Are Emptied

Our insides are emptied…
Looking into your metal engraved eyes
I expected a sort of oracle to emerge
ancient and cryptic, like an inscription standing
in the spaceship’s cemetery
far beyond our galaxy endless light-years away
I thought I’d find the secret of the universe’s reincarnation
in your eyes—
evolving from nonbiodegradable particles
atoms, molecules
cells, into humans, galaxies
a whole universe—all would be
represented in the glorious mandala
of our shared gaze
—but every time I look into your reflecting eyes
It’s like looking down a rusty sad
empty keyhole:
and I love you. Because I can see
both your and my emptied souls
being reincarnated in the turbulence of life
our movements the same, mirroring each other
our oaths burning
through time and space

5. Will You Remember How I look Tomorrow

Will you remember how I look tomorrow?
This imperfect question should be sewn into your DNA.
When you first saw me, you immediately
recalled I was your “yesterday”—
the original work which was, which is to come—
then you were convinced I was a vague copy of you
a piece of fax paper with faint handwriting
where the sender’s number could not be displayed—
you will love me as you love yourself
like a cub opening its eyes and
falling in love with the first thing it sees—
you drive all you can drive you approach me
with care looking at me as though I were a well-designed trap
slightly confused, cautious
completely ignorant of my fate
coming close to me even fearing me
as you fear another deadly trap that caught you once—but love
love’s breath tickles your ear
my tongue stirs to
remove a layer from your disguise. Just look at yourself...

6. Actually, You and I Are Not the Only Beings

Actually, you and I are not the only beings
who have had the thought that someday we will find
our models and serial numbers
in armpits, groins, or the back sides of our heads—
well, perhaps we are the only ones here that think so
but we are not alone in the universe
the universe is like a nest of ants
we work all day, recognizing the marks of
survival and reproduction and feeling extraordinarily happy—
please do not deny that you are not the only one—
among the uniform crowds, we are burdened
by our distant desires and extra rations
a worker ant meets a worker ant
a worker bee loves a worker bee
obey the orders of labor and reproduction
believe in rules and loyalty
—I love you. At the same time I heard
countless clamoring “I love you” echo
through the universe, each instance copying the other
drowning the quiet and cold nest of
androids in darkness

7. Mole or tattoo

Mole or tattoo? I can see
your body, plain after it sheds its clothes
mountains, valleys, lakes, and sky—you say
you want a blue tattoo but
even you could not have an azure mole, you
nude and impeccable like an unfenced slab of
wheatfield in September
uncontaminated by crop circles overnight—
those implications of more advanced mathematics
scientific laws, astronomies
those oracles, warnings to mankind
keys that open gateways to extraterrestrial civilizations
—but all it is is that you are just impeccably naked
a body without anything other messages
related to any civilization:
I love you
too deeply to
accommodate all mystery things
between you and I
a tattoo, a mole, a crop circle
faintly emerges from the fields
I walked through last night

10. How to Summon the Next Century Orgasm

How to summon the next century orgasm?
You are a priest or a lamb
created through asexual reproduction?
But you use your body to break the law
and love me like a UFO
a UFO like a huge cloud landing
on my aging body that has been lovingly stroked
all too frequently and all too long
plundering all my senses and dispatching
a troop of locusts to fuel my sleepless body
that aspires to be colonized someday
—hereafter I am a wasted territory
even in my dream
a desolate, burned, barren, dry land
I long for your advent
like a plague or a UFO in the next century
as the prophecy is a grand one: you
will gloriously descend into
the next century orgasm

〈 寫給複製人的十二首情歌〉（節選）

1. 來，我來教你愛

來，讓我來教你愛——
雖然你可能早已嫻熟或根本
缺少這個基因——自從地球
第一百萬隻熊貓被成功複製
且不再吃素的那天起
我的手錶和人造衛星的軌道便同步行走
指引我每天在上班途中
做出不被追蹤的連續三個迴轉——
是的，此刻愛必須極度密藏
且偽裝，像在喇嘛的甕中發現的
絕種銀杏的種子，我們埋在露台上
像暗自在公寓裡培植大麻
讓他在時間裡祕密發芽，枝幹如肺葉向上膨脹
綠色血脈連通天空和地心——
是的，一如礦物不能覺察植物
你亦無法感知人類的愛
但布滿地球的銀杏如一句呼應天地的咒語
你也當呼應著愛
發出第一聲複製人的語言：

唵。

3. 讓我為你解釋為什麼你沒有肚臍

請容我，讓我 為你解釋
為什麼你沒有肚臍——
一個如此可愛的凹陷
羞怯 畏寒 而敏感的傷口——我有
而你沒有；到底
是誰抹去這道神的戳記 或說是動物的進化標幟
——但從此你無瑕的小腹 於我
是一種平坦而荒蕪的奇蹟——當我
臉頰緊貼在你起伏如浪的腹肌
當我傾聽著你翻滾呻吟的腸道
感覺你缺乏子宮記憶的身體
像一座失去恆星的星系
癱軟，柔順，渙散
在滑翔天際的肋骨
與美草蔓生的 溫暖低緩的恥尻之間
我反覆的閱讀因為少了一個標點
而充滿歧義：
我愛你。
具體 確實
一如我的遺憾：
你不曾存在的肚臍。

4. 我原以為我們都是空的

我原以為我們都是空的
從你金屬鐫刻般的雙瞳望進去
我原期待會有某種神諭般的文字出現
像光年外的銀河盡頭
立在太空船墳場裡的碑文，那般古老而難解——
我原以為那就會是宇宙將再次輪迴的祕密
由無法分解的微粒子
而原子 而分子
而細胞 而人 而星河
而宇宙——都會在我們
給予對方一個完美的凝視時
曼陀羅般清晰而完整呈現
——但我看見了你如鏡的瞳孔當中
自己的眼睛如鏽壞的鑰匙孔
那樣哀傷地空洞著：
我愛你。因為我看見了
你空掉的靈魂
和我空掉的靈魂
將在下一個倥傯動盪的輪迴裡
如明鏡對立
以及貫穿其間時空的
炯炯灼燒的盟誓。

5. 你真的記不起明天我的樣子

你是真的記不起明天我的樣子？
那應該是縫在你的DNA上的印記
你應該在第一次看見我時
便立刻記起我是你的昨日
昔在 現在與永在的原作——
但你就以為我是你一份模糊不清的影印
一張字跡淡掉的傳真紙
（發訊的號碼未能顯示）
你將如愛你自己一般地愛我
像幼獸愛上第一次睜眼看見的
——驅使所有你能驅使的，你將走近我
像打量著一道精心設下的陷阱
那般輕微困惑，小心翼翼
又完全矇昧於命運
餘悸猶存地偷偷靠近我
像靠近曾經捕捉過你的致命的陷阱——而愛
愛在你耳邊呵氣
如舌鼓動：
撥開那層層偽裝，看見你自己……

6. 其實你我並非唯一

其實你我皆並非唯一。但
我們一直都如此誤以為
我們終不至在腋下或鼠蹊或腦後
發現自己的型號或編號——我們
是彼此的唯一但我們自己
卻並不是。宇宙像蜂蟻之巢
我們終日碌碌，辨識著生存
與生殖的標記並因此而無上
快樂著——請你不要因此否認
你並非唯一，在穿著制服的群眾間
我們背負著遙遠的欲望及多餘的口糧
工蟻般相遇著工蟻
工蜂般愛戀著工蜂
服膺著勞動與生殖，信仰著秩序和忠誠
——我愛你。我同時聽見
全宇宙間無數個
我愛你，沸沸揚揚地彼此複製
淹沒了
暗夜裡理應悄靜寒涼的
複製人複製人的巢窠。

7. 是刺青，還是胎痣

是刺青還是胎痣？我看見
你蛻下衣物之後的裸體平原
山巒與幽谷，湖泊與天空－－你說
你好想擁有一片湛藍的刺青卻甚至
無法擁有一道湖青的胎痣你
是如此完美無瑕地裸體著如一片
不含任何阡陌的九月的小麥田
不容許外星人染指不承認
那一夜之間烙下的無數麥田圈
充滿高級數學物理定律或天文學意涵的聯想
或者神諭或者攸關人類生存的未來警語
或者
僅僅是一把打開與外星文明溝通的鑰匙
－－但你，只是如此完美地裸體著
不容負載任何肉體以外
任何文明的訊息：
我愛你
且已至深
容不下你我之間 如謎的一切
一片刺青一道胎痣或者一塊麥田圈
自我昨夜行過的阡陌隱約浮現……

10. 如何召喚下個世紀的高潮

如何召喚下個世紀的高潮？你是無性生殖技術
的祭司 或羔羊？
但你只是以身試法般地
愛我，像幽浮
巨大如雲層的幽浮降落
我被愛撫太久太頻繁的衰老體表
掠奪我的全部觸覺在我渴望被殖民的身體
撒下如群蝗組成的部隊
疾行過暗夜裡獨醒的我
－－從此我是寸草不生的
即使是在我的夢境
我渴求的荒涼 焚燒徹底 焦土入地六呎
的那種寸草不生
是的你必須如是
降臨我
如詛咒裡的瘟疫 下世紀的幽浮
預言如是盛大：汝
也必將如下個世紀的高潮
盛大降臨。