Here is a short passage by Evelyn Lau from the poem “Writers”:
I walk circles through your manuscripts,
shuffle a path through books bricking the walls,
cockroaches cracking underfoot,
filing cabinets vomiting dust.
I sweep your floor with my stockings. (from You Are Not Who You Claim, p.20)
I like this poem when I imagine that the writer is cracking through delusions, through her present moment. When there are no associations, no sense of “gain” or “loss” and no sense of self observing the other, then the stockinged feet are really sweeping away the layers of dust and delusion, leaving behind clarity. Moreover, even the defiled desires are no longer seen as dust any longer: it is a woman crushing cockroach bodies with stockinged feet. These bodies represent the old ways: lust, self-centeredness, ego, laziness, the tendency to take advantage of others, the tendencies to make excuses or make someone else feel or seem weaker. When all these delusions are swept away, we are left with the female narrator, and even the listener has disappeared at that moment.
It’s important to simply contemplate the underlying meaning of this simple poem: not to judge, and let go of the watcher. Please contemplate this poem wholeheartedly.
boysocks318 