In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

FROM DOUBLE-TONGUE: COLLABORATIONSAND REWRITES This page intentionally left blank PURGATION homage, Po Chu-yi Before and after the eye, grasses go over the long fields. Every season they walk on by us, as though- no; I and you, Dear friend- decreed it. One time or another They are here. Grass season... yet we are no longer the best Of us. Lie stiller, closer; in the April I love For its juices, there is too much green for your grave. I feel that the Spring should ignite with what is Unnatural as we; ours, but God-suspected. It should come in one furious step, and leave Some-a little-green for us; never quite get every one of the hummocks tremoring vaguely Tall in the passed-through air. They'd make the old road be The road for old men, where you and I used to wander toward The beetle-eaten city gate, as the year leaned into us. Oh fire, come on! I trust you! My ancient human friend, you are dead, as we both know. But I remember, and I call for something serious, uncalled-for By anyone else, to sweep, to use the dryness we've caused to become us! Like the grasshopper I speak, nearly covered with dust, from the footprint and ask Not for the line-squall lightning: the cloud's faking veins-Yes! I catch myself: No; not the ripped cloud's open touch the fireball hay OfAugust but for frame too old to live Double-tongue 181 Or die, to travel like a wide wild contrary Single-minded brow over the year's right growing In April over us for us as we sway stubbornly near death From both sides age-gazing Both sighing like grass and fire. ...

Share