Letters swallow themselves in seconds.  

字母在一秒一秒的时间里吞噬自身。

Notes friends tied to the doorknob,  

便条是绑在房门把手上的朋友，

transparent scarlet paper,

透明的猩红的纸，

sizzle like moth wings,

像飞蛾的翅膀一样滋滋作响，

marry the air.

与空气结婚。

So much of any year is flammable,  

每一年都有那么多易燃的东西，

lists of vegetables, partial poems.  

蔬菜，未完成的诗的清单，

Orange swirling flame of days,  

岁月的橘黄色的旋转火焰，

so little is a stone.

石头那么小。

Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,  

在有又突然没有了某物的地方，

an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.  

一种缺席呼喊，赞美，留下一个空间。

I begin again with the smallest numbers.

我又从最小的数目开始。

Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,  

快舞，丧失与落叶的曳步，

only the things I didn’t do  

只有我没做的那些事情

crackle after the blazing dies.

在燃烧的死亡后劈啪作响。