to find a way back, he clings on
his name.


the little dog’s drowning in a basin.

inside the basin held a pitch black night.

the pitch black night
held the dog vomiting
rain onto the ground.

the rain then became
her mournful barks,
then the barks became his name.

and his name became the father’s
ideology to love his sons.


the older brother was no van Gogh,

but father sliced his ear off
with a kitchen knife —

to help him learn to listen.

the younger one
still having both of his ears.

van Gogh becomes his name.


the kitchen knife has become his name,
the drowning dog has become his name,

he mounts the syllables onto
the inside of his head.

until the skull bursts open,
a mixture of rain and basin water
and dog’s piss pouring out
until it’s enough to
fill up the scar today
and the scar tomorrow.


all he could do is to cling on it
to find a way back —
the name’s become an eternity.
the father is an eternity.

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