Saturday, 23 May 2015

May Updates: Yuan Changming's Lit Ventures

- finally, finally, the 30,000 copies of create abundance arrived safe and sound in a large container (with 46 pallets), and was delivered to the author's house in langley yesterday after so much frustration and insomnia i have suffered ever since i signed the publishing and transporting contract with the author/her representative in vancouver on 14 march 2015. as the very first major literary venture undertaken by Poetry Pacific Press after its establishment (on the remembrance day of 2013), this 382-page hardcover book is a milestone in my literary career: not only am i the translator, editor, proofreader, copy-editor, product manager and publisher of the bilingual edition of the book, but i also served as the agent solely responsible for its printing, packaging, transporting, importing (from china to canada) and delivering (to the door of the author). during the 70 days, i was haunted by problems one after another. while the author/representative was demanding and gave me daily pressure for high-quality production and prompt delivery, i had to work with inefficient, unprofessional and irresponsible people in shenzhen and vancouver from time to time. in a word, this hands-on project has been quite a literary ordeal for me.

anyway, all is well that ends well: the book is released today, and i got all the expenses fully reimbursed when attending the monthly free seminar held by create abundance in sheralton hotel in richmond this morning. here is the basic information on the book::

title: CREATE ABUNDANCE 《创造丰盛》 
author: Zhang Xinyue 张馨月
translator: Yuan Changming 袁昌明
publisher: PP Press (ISBN:978-0-9919298-3-2)

- today, the author's representative told me to go ahead with the second book wisdom about abundance, a similar project, but they need to add some contents. once i receive their additions, i will translate all the contents into english and then.... again!

- a backnote:: on 4 may, i hit upon the idea to establish something tentatively called 'yuan changming poetry bursary' with the university of saskatchewan, where i received nearly 80,000 dollars 'graduate dean's scholarship', without which i could never have even moved to canada, not to mention to have obtained my phd in english, thus embarked on poetry writing/publishing. my initial idea is to donate 1,000 dollars each year, for 30 years. i have not worked out the details yet, but i would encourage the teaching, publishing of or research on canadian poetry by non-native speakers of english.

- in september, i will have a china-tour in and near shanghai with my wife; i need some rest, and in particular, some refreshing experience to get more inspirations for my poetry; this year, i have not been able to write any really good poetry, though i keep writing...

- Koon told me that my fifth chapbook kinship: for yuan hongqi and liu yu will become available in 10 days or so, and here is the link::

- on may 24, i received the proof of my chapbook origin of letters, to be released shortly by beard of bees press. the cover design is fantastic.

Wednesday, 29 April 2015

yuan changming: new collection to appear

last saturday, on april 23, my seattle-based american poet friend Koon Woon, author of award-winning Chasing the Waters, kindly offered to publish a poetry collection for me with his Goldfish Press.

on april 24, i prepared some 60 poems titled Kinship: For Yuan Hongqi and Liu Yu, and sent it to him with the 'table' page, 'ack' page and 'about' page. every poem is written about, for or to one of my family members. while most of them are based on essentially true experiences, some are on imagined or dreamed experiences. some of those to, for or about my late father Yuan Hongqi and my mother Liu Yu are actually among the best-received pieces i have written. among the 60 some pieces, at least 50 have already been published individually online or in print.

yesterday, Koon told me that after ten days of waiting we will get the proof. hopefully it will come out sometime in may.

this will be my fifth collection. i never give a dame about how many copies can be sold -- i know few of the vast majorities of poetry collections by most poetry writers are actually sold or even read outside their core social circles,  but i want to do something not only to show my gratitude to Koon for his kind invitation, but also to pay 'tributes' to my family members.

at 5:00 pm today, i am going to read three poems with my younger poet son Allen Qing Yuan as scheduled on DC Poetry Project: the Power of Poetics, a blogtalk show hosted by renowned dc-based american poet Michael Anthony Ingram.

i am quite nervous about the reading event. because of some bad experience with the telephone and my health condition (a red light or a telephone ring can make me jumpy or nervous), my listening comprehension becomes poorer the moment i pick up a phone to communicate in english...

yuan changming: village photos

archived below are the photos i took of the village, known as 'lianhuadang,' where i grew up, attending primary and junior high school, basically from 1963 to 1972 ...

the plant i mostly gathered for the pig my household tried to raise

the plant said to make a dick swollen, which all village boys avoided touching

yam leaves, delicious to pigs

rice fields, often filled with leeches, where i sometimes worked after school

hot cotton fields, where i was always slow in picking the flowers

moon above the country, now more in my memory than in the reality

i felt a sense of kinship with cotton fields when i returned in  october 2014

my primary school, now torn down but still with a later-built brick fence
photo taken in 2007 with my poet younger son 

the primary school i attended, with a later-built gate and fence
photo taken with my 12-year-old younger son in the summer of 2007

the chicken house we had in our house, the wall has been modernized

the broom used to clean the room's mudfloor...

the house i lived in while attending junior high school
 which used to have a thatched roof and mud walls

my father's tomb in my uncle's vegetable garden, taken in october 2014

tomb-visiting: fire crackers burned in honor of my father
photo taken in october 2014

my father's tomb, photo taken in october 2014

Saturday, 18 April 2015

Changming to Appear in a Blog Show

forgot to mention last time::

on april 5, i received a kind invitation from well-known american poet Catfish McDaris to participate in a blog show guest-hosted by him at 8:00 pm eastern time on 29 april. the dc-based blog talk radio is hosted by poet professor Michael Anthony Ingram, while the program is called the dc poetry project. i will read three poems (as pasted below) first in chinese and then in english. initially i was very hesitant, for i am always more nervous over the phone than on site - in particular, i am so nervous when communicating in english on the phone that my listening comprehension becomes too poor to understand what people are saying. however, with the mother's day approaching, i want to pay tribute to my mom.

program: the power of poetics
time: 8:00 pm eastern time, 29 april 2015

yesterday, Catfish kindly encouraged my younger son Allen to participate in the reading event as well. also, the friendly american poet has recommended us father-son comraderie to co-guest host the program. i am still hesitating about this, but for Allen's sake, we might take the challenge...




To escape from the tyrannical logic
Of your mother tongue
You wandered, wandering
Through earth’s length and breadth
Subjecting your old self to another syntax
A whole set of grammatical rules
Strangely new to your lips and tips
To expand the map of your mind
Far beyond your home and haven
Yet in the meantime it becomes colonized
By all the puzzling paradoxes
Of this chosen language, for example:
Quicksand can be very slow
Boxing rings are in fact square
And a guinea pig is neither a pig
Nor is it from Guinea
Like you or me






On Mother’s Day: for Liu Yu

Rather than composing poetry
To commemorate you after you are gone
I am now writing, dear Mom
To pay my highest tribute to you
As one of the hardest-fated on earth

 Yes, among the many death experiences you’ve had
The most significant one for me (and my sons)
Was your sickness you suffered at two, which was so
Severe that your poor and ignorant foster mother
Could do nothing but put you on a flat basket
And return your living corpse to your bio-creator

But for your step father, who used his shamanic skills
To contain the evil spirit and drive it to an unknown
Corner, you would have died like a doomed sapling
(That’s why your name is changed to ‘Refound’)

So, stay well, Mom, and remain hardy for us!






Single Last Sale

You’ve long since sold out
Both your sweat and blood
Now you try to sell your heart
Though nobody wants it

Some say the blood is not red enough
Others find the chambers too narrow
Still others think the coronary arteries
Stained with too many feelings

You peddle around, chanting aloud
From street to street
With your heart still fresh
Beating like a frog in your hands

You hope to sell it for a glass of water
Just to cool down your burning voice
So you do not have to sell your soul
Like all other hawkers in the market
Well satiated, but hardly heart-felt

Wednesday, 8 April 2015

april updates: yuan's lit endeavors

1. finally, by the end of last month, i had had my poetry accepted by or published in more than 1,000 literary outlets across 32 countries - it was quite amazing to myself. when i tried to write english poetry in early august 2004, i had no idea that i could have gone so far, and i am still going, though through a limbo or dilemma period for the time being;

2. i am really tired of having to make poetry subs, but without taking this exhausting and boring step, i cannot hope to get my work out there to be read. indeed, i always enjoy the creating part of the job, but i hate the process of getting my work out of my little ivory tower. what's to be done next? just to continue writing, and let my work squat on the corner of my file box?

3. maybe i should try to write prose work now. i have always wanted to write a novel, or some short stories, but prose writing entails more attention and especially more time with the computer. this has been making me hesitate for long enough: my attention span is short; my eye condition forces me to minimize my computer time; and it will take more time, effort and patience to get any prosework published...

4. this morning when i opened my linkedin account, i received an invitation by Frank Joussen, a german author/editor, to send some family-themed prosework to his Anthology to be released in december. excited, i sent along my first and only short story 'ancestor worshipping,' which i wrote from my poet teenage son's perspective in 2008, one year after we had our joint china trip to our ancestor's home in shisan village, hanyang county. interestingly, Frank accepted the piece right away and gave me particularly encouraging comments, which end:  'I was only disappointed when I´d reached the end, I would have loved to go on reading - so maybe you´ll write a sequel one day? You or your son may submit again if you wish; I´d be delighted.' - isn't this an encouraging moment to begin to write more prosework?

5. these are all the prose works i have thus far written in english: 
- 1 short story 'ancestor worshipping' (i published a poem with the same title, and roughly same content in the canadian magazine grain); 
- 1 what chinese poets usually refer to as 'poetry talk,' titled 'die in poetry, or live forever,' published in the volta ( and to be included in progressive poetics; (i also published a poem with a similar title 'die there, or live forever' in teh sangam magazine (;
- 1 travelogue with the title of 'china revisited' which was published in us-china review in 2013 ( Changming, “China Revisited,” XXXIV, 3, 17-18);

6. the 400-page hardcover book create abundance is well on the way; as its translator and publisher, i have been undergoing more trouble or frustration than i am ever prepared for: the author/her representative is sometimes as unreasonably demanding, willful and irrespectful as those infamous chinese upstarters, the printer's formatter and editor in charge of layouts are careless, unprofessional and inefficient, while the import procedure involves much more business work than i ever want to expose myself to - one word, i have bitten more than i can chew this time; hopefully the e.galley is completed tonight and will go onto the machine in a couple of days; hopefully 30,000 copies will arrive in mid-may from shenzhen without creating more problems...

7. i have written about 130 mini blog essays in chinese. i post one each monday, and have created a quite loyal readership of around 300 - but for the hoster/editor's censorship, i would have had a much larger readership ( i have observed that if my mini-essays were not 'censored' or intentionally 'kept down,' there should be at least 1,000 hits for each single posting). most commentators are as impolite as they have poor thinking and writing skills, but i do not care. all i want to do is just to put into chinese characters everything i have observed and thought about chinese culture, chinese personality or chinese tradition, especially about the weakness or ugliness of the chinese as a modern nation

8. should i begin to write prose in english?

Sunday, 5 April 2015

[archived]: Alphabetic Poems by Yuan Changming ©

The Origin of Letters

By Yuan  Changming 

As the first born to the Semitic family
A was originally a picture of an alef or ox, the
Agricultural energy that was rotated twice until
Alpha loomed up in the Greek psychoscape even before
Adam became the chosen father of all Europeans close to
Athens, where Apollo had acupunctured wisdom and knowledge into
Aristotle, the intellectual ancestor of modern man, who inspired
Alexander to make the first effort of globalization, which did not reach East
Asia, the land of Ah Q’s, the largest hotel for
All travelers until centuries later, but it is
Atomic bombs that will blow up all our pasts and send us through
America to a higher civilization, where the drop of an
Apple is to enable us to fly to the other side of the universe
Along the cosmic string as
Africa, the heart of human darkness
Awaits for Buddha, Jesus, Allah or
An other unknown author to come and rotate for the third time
A scarlet letter of


boy, boy! britain begins beating brazil badly behind belrus' back, because bipedal britons believe brazilians behave better before boys become barbaric; beyond blue borders, bill's big bully boss blatantly breaks bounds by betraying blood-bound brotherhood, but bill's best biographer belies books braving bellicose breeds between balanced buoyancies.

beach birds besides boulders beget babies below beautiful bushes...


a Phoenician throw-stick
held high in his right hand
the Egyptian basket
lying far beyond his reach
what was, what is
the Chinese peasant
trying to do
in his story?


it is
neither a door
nor a delta
it is nothing, anything
but a hand
trying desperately
to open the door to the delta
when every reed bows down deeply 


born to be a double reed
that can be bent
into a long vowel
the most frequently used letter
in english, echoing endlessly
in silences

if pulled down, it offers two doors
one leading to Soul via will, the other
to Him via wisdom; if turned up right
it forms a mountain with three peaks
like three holy swords, pointing high
one against the sun
one against the moon
one against the sky

Facing always towards the east, it embraces
existence, equality, eternity, emancipation...


as in fragrant flowers
that keep flirting with sunlight
on a French afternoon

forwarded to the future
will be a foiled fairytale
about France, as it tries to
catch a deformed viper
with an ancient hook


Gives us all the glories of
God, Godot, the gorilla
Amidst the gamers, constantly
Reminding us of George
Germany, the G-spot,


inspired by a fence in hell
you were invented long ago
to connect every human
for a tall ladder of hope
that we can stand high
against the blue horizon
like the Babel Tower growing to reach Him
where I can find a home in the fame hall
where I can settle my soul in heaven


To begin with
The hieroglyphical origin of
My identity was simply no body
But a common reed
Bowing its head to the rising sun
On the barren bank of the Nile

Slim, tall, hollow-hearted
Standing against tropical heat
Until one day 'I' was used
As a human symbol, an open vowel
Referring to the speaker
And since then I have become
One of the most frequently spelt letters
In the linguistic order of the day
Always capitalized
To embody my dignity
Though I am nothing
But a common reed
That could have been made into a flute


a small cobra coiled
in a big pyramid's shape
always read to bite

just like Japan
just like Justice  


an other basket
you hold anything having a shape
but sand or water
*          *
for all your knighthood
you keep quiet before knowledge
but never the king


with an open angle
you embraces all legends
about light and lions


despite your body
as imposing as a massive mountain
you have a mindset
hidden deeply
in the wisdom of a little owl
in the plasticities of a drop of water


No, nobody knows this
But you are really no more
Or no less than the old
Egyptian metonymy of
A stream, river, lake, sea or
Even an entire ocean, where
There is always water , where
There are always fish
Rather than a synecdochic Z
Pushed straight upright
On the bank of the Euphrates


a rope loop propped up with hope
to lasso words running amuck

a mouth reshaped, repositioned
to pronounce the roundest vowel


not really a stoop
but a flag fluttering there
followed by pi rates


a chord, made of sunlight
instead of grass
will lead each climber to the peak
though few can find it
on the hillside
beside the question


residing near their summer resort
through her entire year
after their marriage, (for better or for worse)
russian author catherine tries narrating
her bearish story from their wintery perspective
where her major concerns are perhaps
wrapping gershwin's rhapsody
around hieroglyphic spring sprouts


with a double hook
the sexist, the most charming shape
looking more like a naked woman
in postmodern art
than folded cloth used to cover her body
in an Egyptian tale

always ready to


the Egyptian loaf
far off the Phoenician mark
is still edible now


u is surely a part of you, while
you sound no more than a single letter
u, which is nothing but a copy of a chick
you used to be on the bank of the Nile, where
u can be changed into
v within an european word as in yvan; it's said
you have the makings of a
victor, a us or un representative who begins the
uniform, university, universe.


with the shape of victory
you are a viper in essence:
each victory is a  poisonous snake


pecking around a lion
only the little chick
knows the word's worth
as it writes the worlds' story
with its feet printed on the ground
rather than on a papyrus


only when two straight roads meet
at an intersection, or

only when you cross the road
crossing the border can you
understand why Christ's body is
nailed on the cross, but his soul
rises high above the land


You are haunted by ‘Y’, not because it’s the
First letter in your family name, but because
It’s like a horn, which the water buffalo in your
Native village uses to fight against injustice
Or, because it’s like a twig, where a crow
Can come down to perch, a cicada can sing
Towards the setting sun as loud as it wants to
More important, in Egyptian hieroglyphics
It stands for a real reed, something you can
Bend into a whistle or flute; in pronouncing it
You can get all the answers you need, besides
You can make it into a heart-felt catapult
And shoot at a snakehead or sparrow, as long
As it is within the range of your boyhood


in opposite directions:
you are not so much like
a weird weapon, a manacle, or
a bolt for fastening the flood
of the Nile in ancient logography
as like a postmodern zebra
zigzagging with zeal
like a zealot trying to pass

through an inflated zero 

Monday, 2 March 2015

[archived]: Languacultural Poems by Yuan Changming ©


Changming Yuan

To escape from the tyrannical logic
    Of your mother tongue
You wandered, wandering
        Through earths length and breadth
    Subjecting your old self to another syntax
A whole set of grammatical rules
        Strangely new to your lips and tips
    To expand the map of your mind
        Far beyond your home and haven
Yet in the meantime it becomes colonized
        By all the puzzling paradoxes
    Of this chosen language, for example:
        Quicksand can be very slow
        Boxing rings are in fact square
        And a guinea pig is neither a pig
        Nor is it from Guinea
                Like you or me

Yellow Comedy

Using my yellow tail
I yellow-swam
From the Yellow River
As a yeast of the yellow peril
Against the yellow alert
In yellow journalism

With a yellow hammer
And a yellow sheet
I yielded to the yellow metal
At a yellow spot
¼ million yards away from Yellowknife

People call me yellow jack
Some hailed me as a yellow dog
When I yelped on my yellow legs
To flee from the yellow flu

Speaking Yerkish* like a yellow warbler
I have composed many yellow pages
For a yeasty yellow book
To be published by the yellow press

Don’t panic, I yell low.

* An artificial language developed for experimental communication between humans and chimpanzees.

Sell Liberation of Words Worth

Although with a broken pen soul
I am not writing tear ably or pointlessly
on the new clear issue for the magazine
run by a non-prophet society
set up on the basis of its members lie ability
To me, an operation would not secure but mean
a sentence to the peace in that infected area
As a banana author, I may lack a peel
but it is rarely better to turn left than to be all right
To avoid a rest, Ive de sided to go fast on a weak day
then I will call my sun to rice in the mourning
after he falls in love at the first site
In deed, if we give the act an inch
it would become a ruler. Just like a life guard
I hope to keep all the buoys in line
With a film-like memory yet to be developed
I try to keep my head above the water
as I swim for word, yet I have no interest in the bank
Unlike a lawyer who may be debarred or a model
to be deposed, Ill never become a poet to be decomposed
nor do I allow my train of thaw derailed; rather
I will commit sue side by continuing
to write worse or move in verse

Word Collage: A Politically Correct Poem
                According to a poll conducted worldwide in 2008, these are the 50 “most beautiful English words.”

Mother of Passion, Smile
In love for eternality and fantastic destiny
At freedom or liberty
With tranquility or peace
In blossoms and sunshine
On the sweetheart gorgeous
To cherish enthusiasm, hope and grace
Under rainbow blue
Like sunflowers twinkling in serendipity
With bliss and lullabies
Beyond the sophisticated renaissance, cute and cozy
Under butterflies from the galaxy
At this hilarious moment beyond extravaganza
Against aqua sentiment
In a cosmopolitan bubble
Above pumpkins, bananas and lollipops
As bumblebees giggle
About paradoxes and delicacies
Despite the peek-a-boo behind an umbrella
Beside a kangaroo

Word Vogue: Another Politically Correct Poem
            According to Global Language Monitoring (2009), the following words have appeared most frequently on flat and e/media over the past decade.

Global warming, with
9/11, before
Obama, through
Bailout, for
Evacuees, from
Derivatives, via
Google, behind
Surge, against
Chinglish, till

In No Sense, In A Sense

You are
in ascent;

I am to have
inner scent;

She is already
in a cent;

Aren’t we all 

Light vs Shadow

Was it the shadow?
Was it the shadow beyond?
Was it the shadow beyond the shadow?
Still fell the thick night,
When the heart blocked the light.

Yes, it is light!
It is light within!
It is light within light!
Loud sweeps the morning glow,
Where the mind has no shadow.

An Apocrypha of A
As the first born to the Semitic family
A was originally a picture of an alef or ox, the
Agricultural energy that was rotated twice until
Alpha loomed up in the Greek psychoscape even before
Adam became the chosen father of all Europeans close to
Athens, where Apollo had acupunctured wisdom and knowledge into
Aristotle, the intellectual ancestor of modern man, who inspired
Alexander to make the first effort of globalization, which did not reach East
Asia, the land of Ah Qs, the largest hotel for
All travelers until centuries later, but it is
Atomic bombs that will blow up all our pasts and send us through
America to a higher civilization, where the drop of an
Apple is to enable us to fly to the other side of the universe
Along the cosmic string as
Africa, the heart of human darkness
Awaits for Buddha, Jesus, Allah or
An other unknown author to come and rotate for the third time
A scarlet letter of

Spelling Test

Happy is the baby who picks and plays with a plain bottle among all the fancy toys

The dog is successful when it finds the bone it wants to chew

If we love animals, they will love plants in return

When mice begin to enjoy playing with cats, there will be peace

Children are healthy as long as they are eating, running and giggling

The Banishment of First Person Singular

always capitalized
    seldom in lower case
        the only pro-form of my entire being
            coded in my chosen language
impressive indeed

pronounced with a sole loud vowel
    spelt in a powerful personal letter
        without differentiating the sex
            or even an actual human antecedent
unavoidable and irremovable

you are equally assumed in a sentence
        either by a murmuring illiterate voice
            or by a widely published phd pen

alas, if only the syntax could
        hide or spare my humble self

Etymology of Love

It is perfectly easy:
All you need to do is
To separate be
From the intended act
Or take out the first letter
From the glove
[on your personality]
or simply press
and thus cover
the g [spot with
Your whole being

Dangling Modifiers

to write your dead past
into a living essay
this chapter should be read
with your eyes and mind
both widely open

by perusing or pursuing 
such perfectly bound books
all the essential rules
can easily be learned
about their sophisticated syntaxes

taking notes with all her attention
the idiomatic usages
of her adopting language
will be mastered well
over a small spot of time

heavily loaded with grammar
his whole being is
an isolated adverbial
often meant to modify
the wrong logical subject

Another Impasse

Writing from Vancouver West
To my former friends in China
I always feel hesitant
Whether to or not to use
The first person singular pronoun
As in I do not really think so!

Time and time again, they have
Unnecessarily reminded me of 
The biggest difference in language
Between the east and the west:
“There in English you always
Spell your favourite word I
In big bold italic upper case, however
Here we have really rarely
Employed the word even in poetry”

In their writing practice (probably too long)
They either drop the pronoun or replace it
With many an impersonal thing like:
The present writer, the writing subject
The unlearned, the uncouth one
The old person/body, the little human/one
The trivial/insignificant/unmentionable
The president/manager/[          ] proper
The person per se, or more precisely:
[Your] inferior, [your] subordinate
[Your] stupid husband/brother/son
[Your] foolish wife/sister/daughter
[Your] humble [          ], or less humbly:
As [your] father/mentor/lord…

Instead of standing up for an unmasked person
I should try to remain hidden like a taboo
In Chinese

Still Life

Blue blue, gray gray, green green
Fair fair, square square, light light

On a Rainy Day

You open, I
Close, or I
Open, you
Close, either
Your umbrella
Or mine

To keep
Both ourselves
Dry from
This cold
Rain, we
Have to
The one
And the same
Umbrella, if
We must
Hand in hand

Behest Impressed

from a messed nest to a jest fest
with a blessed crest and a dressed breast
the pressed guest had best detest
molest or invest in a west quest
for the chest of zest
in the assessed protest
against the test of pest
lest the rest vest
in the depressed or accessed

Collage of Voices

...did you
did you sight that
            last night
a miraculous mirage
    of sounds without bounds:
mishmash, hodgepodge-
      jingling, jangling
            tingling, tangling
chitchat, ticktack
      clink clank, claptrap
            riprap, syrupchirrup
hubble-bubble, hocus-pocus
like a symphony of cacophony
      a cantata by the dead
all woven into a fine line of the mind
            or a colored call
                        did you hear that?

The Cosmic Music

With your hearts ear can you clearly hear
The sound from an unknown planet far beyond our galaxy
A few tender grasses whose deafening snoring has awakened a whole new world
Where the souls of our relatives are traveling all in a hurry
As if to attend a spring gathering?

The Way Forward

Tick, ticktack, ticktock
A cloudy sound persists around
      Looming lonely in the lightless park

Waiting, wandering or hesitating
As so many of us have ceased
      Groping our ways out of dark

Hey, no more path appears ahead
Someone kindly reminds the blind man
      Thanks, but your warning is really off the mark

Tick, ticktack, ticktock
His seeing rod rhyming with the unseen clock
      Behind his faded footsteps follows a fresh path

Chanson of a Chinaman*

ching chong, coolie
chink, shina, chonky
so was i called a dragon of barbarity
a born rogue holding laws of truth in deformity
because i ate rats, dogs, slugs and snakes
i began with anything but genes of true humanity

ching chong, coolie
chink, shina, chonky
so am i made a dead enemy of civility
a growing grotesque against the white reality
because i hate freedom as much as human rights
though i have the right to remain a human entity

ching chong, coolie
chink, shina, chonky
so will i be seen a species of non-conformity
a satan inflated beyond the borders of christianity
as long as im pig-eyed, crow-haired, the farthest other
i must be treated as a real demon only

* A parody on A Chanson for Canton, published in Punch (London: April 10, 1858), which offers a telling historical example illustrative of the deeply-rooted and long-held western tendency to demonize China as the farthest Other. 
Fragile, Archaic China

They listen to you
Which china are you talking about?
They wondered

Which china are you talking about?
You certainly know
If you please… one accosted you
Which china on the rise? He demanded

You are referring to the ‘sleeping giant’ in the east
The fattening hog to be slaughtered and divided
The country with an elephant’s body
But a chick’s heart

All china out of fashion, he commented
Shrugging his non-colored shoulders
But which china? He persisted
Really antic stuff? China made in Jingde Town?
You really like china?
Blue china? Ming china?
Or perhaps Song china?

You coughed in good will
You realize something
China is interesting to see
Only for its long history

Lexical Tourism
            (after Bill Holm’s ‘The Icelandic Language’)

You do not speak that language
Neither have you been to their country
But within the territory of our English vocabulary
You can easily find who they are:
            They enjoy playing mahjong in a casino
            They are afraid of typhoon
            They kowtow to show their respect
            They fight with kungfu skills
            They believe in fengshui
            And now they have their own taikongnauts
From these lexical spots
Can you clearly sightsee how they live?

Media Warning

you have the right to remain silent
any sound you make here in public
can and will later or sooner be used
against you in a court of rule
even if it is nothing but a cough
a sneeze, a hiccup, or a fart
they are either clichés or noises

you also have the right to talk nonsense
any utterance you make in private
can and will be translated against you
according to the dictionary of democracy
your facial expression, your gesture
you body movement or your posture
may prove far from politically correct

you sure have the right to remain silent
unless your whole being is a word per se

Provincial Proverbs

An onion a day keeps the salesperson away
A grin a minute keeps the oak in spirit
A lie an hour keeps the chief in power
A wind a night keeps the mind light
A poem a week keeps the heart freak
A payroll a month keeps poverty at arm’s length
A trip a season keeps the dog in reason
A boss a year keeps the worker dear
A wedding a decade keeps the couple off headache
A big bang a century keeps the human world friendly

Sexual Slogans

A steak a day keeps the court away
A touch a minute keeps the body in spirit
A lie an hour keeps the chief in power
An injection a night keeps the mind light
A dinner a week keeps the heart freak
A honeymoon a month keeps the government at arms length
A trip a season keeps the dog in reason
A chef a year keeps the house dear
A wedding a decade keeps the couple off headache

The Black Bird

so little triggers

a black bird
the spot of synthesis

foiled with snow

to fly into the thick dictionary of


There is a long wait of the passengers
For the detouring and delayed bus
And the wait of the wintry grasses

The wait of the legendary lion king
Before it preys upon a real baby zebra
And the wait of the summer sun deep in the nightmare

The wait of the orchid on the window ledge
The wait of the diamond in an unknown mine
And the wait where you stop and watch

And there is a wait of this darkness
Which you are going to compress into words
A wait that is to spread out thin on the blank paper

Unlike winter stars holding their light in light-years
The wait after you finish writing
And the longer wait then

Reading behind the Words

Behind the words is there no meaning squatting
Except a bold row of cheerful cherry trees
Standing tall in front of my half-fenced house
That bloom for two weeks in a year only
Between spring and summer

Behind the words is there no emotion hidden
But a pair of little unsung yellow birds
Popping up from nowhere
One has flown far away from home
The other still learning to fly close to the nest

Behind the words is there no metaphor explored
But a black and white photo of my parents
Who are hospitalized alternately in China
For the imbalance between yin and yang
A disease both blood-related  

English Irrationalities: Outlining a Formal Essay

There might be love in between gloves
But no egg in eggplant, or ham in hamburger

(1)    English muffins did not originate from England, nor French fries from France; sweetmeats are actually candies while sweetbreads are meat though not sweet at all; readers read, singers sing, but typewriters do not type, nor fingers fing; a mouse can multiply into mice, but a grouse never into grice;

(2)    People may recite at a play and play at a recital
Their noses run while their feet smell
They park on the driveway, or drive on the parkway
Ship by truck and send cargo by ship

(3)    Teachers may be taught, but preacher are never praught
One goose may stand between two geese
So may one tooth between two teeth
But a booth can never between two beeth

If vegetarians eat vegetables
What would some humanitarians do to humans?

Politics vs Poetics

in a busy simile-like street
with masks of synecdoche and metonymy
so many metaphors are dancing wildly
that no oxymoron can elbow his way
through crowds of symbols and hyperboles
to his long lost friend paradox
trying to converse with a shy-looking allusion

after standing too long on tiptoes
between consonance and assonance
i become an internally-rhymed road plate
pointing towards the shiny euphony
with no onomatopoeia painted on my face
hardly visible beside the fast lane

The Canadian Comedy

in London we speak like Yankees
in New York, we sound like Cockneys 

we try to have American economy
British politics, French culture
yet we are somehow lost in British economy
French politics, and American culture

one reason is we only look skookum
another is too proud of our face off
our blue line, and especially our puck

more important perhaps, we pronounce z as zed
rather than zee, eh?

English Kanata

Living in the buttes and parklands
With the chutes running through the muskeg
Where Douglas fir and Sitka spruce dwarf
Manitoba maple and tamarack
Among kinnikinnick, saskatoon and soapallallie

We keep fool hens, siwash ducks
Turkey vultures and whiskey jacks
But not really caribous, pecans
Siffleurs or Massassauga rattlers

We eat cisco, inconnu, kokanee, ouananiche
Or oollichan together with timbits

Under the guidance of a bush pilot
Along the blue line
We sometimes ride a chuck wagon
On a grid or asphalt road

When we have a tea party on our veranda
We always prefer to sit on a chesterfield

We have coined tons of loonies and toonies
To pay our premiers and suitcase farmers alike

It matters not if we dwell in a flat or apartment
If we play with a pack or deck of cards
Not even if we take a holiday or vacation

But we do care about how our MLAs
Face off with one another
Even over a puck

At the Eagle Pass

like a shepherd driving his sheep to the pen
the wind keeps blowing wisps of mists
natures indistinct trains of thoughts
      into the murmuring mouth of the valley
where they gather to make a simple sentence
      with the mountain peak as the subject
the river as the predicate and
      all the trees as its modifiers

Open Opera


this solo performance
of sweet cherry trees

white clusters of vowels
pink chorus of assonance

there is no accompany
of leafy consonance

except bold internal rhymes
between heartbeats and footsteps

Behind a Ballad

to bring this single word
into the mind, the cherry flower has prepared to bloom
for the whole spring

to bring this single line
onto the paper, the thunder has rolled
through the entire summer sky

to bring this single stanza
onto the mouth, the west wind has blown
over all the golden fields

Content Words

Amidst the waves sits still a stark noun
Like a coral island in the east sea
Looming in and out in the star light

Through the trees runs a little verb
As if to flee from one valley to another
In case the sun’s arrows should hit it too hard

Above the clouds thunders a series of adverbs
Their sounds too loud to produce an echo
Even in a great hall of fame

Beyond the skyline drift some adjectives
Ready to fall with last year’s narration
Greyer than the greyest patch of history

Across the Vast Open Range

as if to demonstrate
            his roping talents
the cowpuncher looses up his lasso
and throws it afar and straight
      dropping it right over
            nouns like grizzly bears
            verbs like coyotes
            adjectives like eagles
            adverbs like rattlesnakes
      and other function words
            like buzzards
before the snowstorm sweeps all
the creatures from the prairies

Interpreting a Poem

shake the film
with all your pleasant leisure
in the clean and crystal water
of your imagination
just wait in your dark room
until the pictures loom
or hold the kaleidoscope straight
against the sunshine in your mind
and keep rolling it slowly
you will see varied views of beauty
but do not hit it too hard
with the hammer of your will
for the shell and meat
would be crushed together

The Making of a Best Poem
A: a worthy arrangement of worthless words
B: a public print-out of private puzzles
C: a rational repetition of random ravings
A: mailed from a good address, better school-associated
B: including a good bionote, better award-winning
C: signed with a good name, better recognizable
A: received by a well-circulated magazine
B: read by a well-connected editor
C: recommended by a well-established publisher
A: the magazine is in the right need
B: the editor is in the right mood
C: the publisher is of the right kind
A: published in the perfect year
B: included in the perfect section
C: presented on the perfect page
A: selected by a poetry lord, somehow intrigued
B: voted by an expert reader, somehow over-reading
C: chosen by a guest editor, somehow idiosyncratic

Poetry Penning
            (for Charles Bukowski)

Poetry penning has to be the saddest damned business to do today:
You melt the letters with the best ingredients you have
Your boldest blood, your tenderest tears and your saltiest sweat
Every piece uniquely heart-made
Packaged with the purest silk of your soul
And priced far below the cost of the little fire in your body
But you can sell it for not a single cent
Indeed, only a few tribesmen and tribeswomen caring most about this archaic trade
Might come and take a casual look
When it is marked free
Like some utensils in a used box put on the road side
Oh yeah, with more wordsmiths than wardwares
More wardwares than hawkers
More hawkers than patrons
How can you expect the miracle of a market niche
For this sad damned business
As more and more patrons turn to raps, heavy metal music
Soaps, chat rooms, computer games, virtual sex
Hot dogs, chilled beers, pot or marijuana
That can entertain every nerve ending
The human body may or may not have besides the mind
So, if you must pen something
Youd best try a story, a screenplay, a slogan or even a spam

What I say is, pen pal
You may well pen anything
But for Christs sake
Not this crap

This Is a Line
            (for Liu Yu and other mothers)

A line this is for my mother’s birthday
A birth line for my mother’s day
A mother for the birthday of a line
A celebration of my mother’s line of birth

Mother, I will line your birth with celebration
I will day a line with birth celebration, Mother
I will mother a day line with celebration
I will celebrate the mothering of a line
Mother, I will celebrate a line’s birthday

Mother my celebration of a line’s day
Mother my day’s line for a birthday
Celebrate my line with my mother’s birth
Celebrate the day with my mother’s line
Mother, I celebrate your birthday with a line

The White Goose
            (For Yuan Hongqi and other fathers)

My grandfather was younger than my son
    When he died of an undiagnosed disease
        Somewhere in the Mid-South of China
So we have been told since childhood:
    He did nothing memorable or forgettable
        Left no picture of his or any handwriting
Not even one impression on my fathers senses
    Since he was born after he passed away)
But he had bought a big white goose
        To protect his infant son in his place
And a single-syllabled family name
Copyrighting every little poem
I have composed
In a foreign tongue

East Idioms (1)

All the animals of the jungle
Flee in fright from the little fox
As it carefully stalks behind
In the tigers shadow

A dog begins to bark at the sight
Of a shadow that seems shivering
Then all the dogs in the neighborhood
Jumped into a chorus like crazy

It is the magistrate that indulges himself
In random arson in broad daylight
But prohibits local residents from lighting a lamp
Even in the heart of the night

The oak tree longs to stand still
Or sit in deep meditation
Yet the wind would never stop
Trying to uproot or remove it

East Idioms (2)

the moment a bold pupil is dotted
inside each of its handsome eyes
the painted dragon jumps alive
and flies high above the sky

when the lofty fir begins to dwarf
all other trees in the same forest
it will be knocked down flat
by the first storm at night

deeply buried under the dirty silt
the lotus root is pure and clean inside
you break it into pieces widely apart
yet they still remain connected by the silk

three days after the nightingale flew away
its calls are still circling around every tree
with its songs squatting at each leaf tip
like a dewdrop refusing to fall onto the ground

on the bare ground, with a broken twig
she drew a picture of the serpent
as lively as her own tongue
except for some feet added, though pretty

East Idioms (cont. 3)

In Handan/
In their fondest hope to walk as gracefully as handsomely as the residents of Handan
People swarm in from every part of the country to learn and practice the capital steps
But many have failed to learn the new steps while others forgot their old ways
So they all have to crawl back on their fours to where they originally came from

Bell Stealing/
To prevent the sound from being heard
As he tries to steal the only bell in the village
The thief stops his own ears with thick cotton
Believing that no one would find him out

Loss of the horse/
On a snowy evening a poor old frontier tribesman 
Lost his horse, the only means of living he had
While everybody still felt sorry for him a week later
The horse returned home with another one wild

East Idioms (4)

Mr Ye/
Instead of God, Money, Computer, Sex or Art, he believes in Dragon only
He loves the legendary animal so much so that he paints it on every surface he can find
Deeply moved by his devoted passion, a real dragon comes down to visit him  
But no sooner has he seen its face than he jumps to flee, with his pants all wet with fright

Ms Dongsi/
Every time she walks in public, she tries hard to press her belly and frown her brows
Exactly in the same way as does Xisi the most beautiful woman in the whole country
For her, this is the trendiest thing to do to win herself some lovers or admirers
For Xisi, this is a gesture she cannot help making while suffering from a physical pain

Mr Fool/
To remove the two big mountains blocking the way to or from his home
The old man uses a spade to dig away the dirt and gravel day by day
Isn’t it much simpler just to relocate you own family house, says Mr Smart
But so long as we persist, the mountains will be gone some day, he replies

East Idioms (5)          

1/ at a waterfront pavilion you can readily
fetch the moon in its clearest reflection
just like the plants facing towards the south
always the first to feel the breath of spring

2/ only by living close to lakes or rivers
can we make friends with fish and shrimps
those living far away from hills or mountains
can never hear the original songs of birds

3/ thanks to the trees our ancestors
planted long time ago, we can now
enjoy all the coolness of their shades
under a scorching summer sun

4/ just before the sun rises
he pulls up every seedling
a little bit higher in his field
so as to have a harvest sooner

East Idioms (6)

The Daoist Alchemist

Instead of turning brass into gold or sand into diamonds, the alchemist refines soil, air and sunlight into an immortality syrup. While gulping down the newly made elixir in a hurry, he accidentally spills a few drops of the holy dew onto the ground, which his dogs, cats and chickens struggle hard to lip at the first sight. As the alchemist launches himself for a higher life in heaven, all the animals in his humble house thus begin to rise, certainly underneath him. 

The Guizhou Donkey

The first of its kind that had ever appeared in the mountains of Guizhou, the donkey gave a deep impression to all local animals at the beginning. Terror-stricken, even the tiger came to pay his respect and offer his kingship to the newcomer, since he had such an imposing statue as well as such a high-pitched voice. Later, the tiger found the donkey capable of doing nothing other than kicking to defend himself or offend his enemy. With this happy realization, the tiger tore the new king into pieces and ate him up the third time he passed by.

East Idioms (7)

1/ Once he gets a full taste of the idea
He forgets the words that contain it
Just as the angler forgets his fishing rod
After he gets the carp off his little hook

2/ He enjoys playing
His harp to the cows
Because only they can
Appreciate his artistry

3/ The moment he hears of Zong’s death
He throws his zither into a big fire
Knowing no one else would ever
Be able to understand his music

4/ Far to the west and long time ago
Did the crane fly away from the wall
Here it was once boldly painted
Here its shadow is still fluttering now

East Idioms (8)

1/ So long as the green mountain is still out there
There is no worrying about want of firewood

2/ The itch is worse when scratched from outside the shoe
The flower would be fairer if looked at from behind the fog

3/ The oak desires to remain still
But the wind must keep blowing

4/ Rather to be a jade broken to pieces
Than to be a tile unharmed as a whole

5/ The Sichuan dog barks at the rising sun
As it seldom appears in this rainy season

6/ The mantis tries to catch the cicada in the front
While a shadowy oriole is stalking it close behind

7/ The couple sleeps closely on one and the same bed
Their dreams are as widely different as day and night

Prosperous Tomorrow Programmed

0                        0
0                        0

1                                                  1
1                                                  1
1                                                  1

                           0                      0
111111111111   0                      0
1                    1   0                      0
1                    1   0                      0
1                    1   0111111111110
100000000001   0                      0
1                    1   0                      0
1                    1   0                      0
1                    1   0                      0
111111111111   0000000000000
                           0                      0
                           0                      0
                           0                      0
                           0                      0

Earthling Calling
            we love; therefore, we are…



Y c q?
-- I o u
I o u 1
I, 4 1, o u
2 b / 2c
2 b 1
2 c 1
4 1, u r 1
I c q    

In the Lakeheart

            rainbow trout
e                                  s
r                                   d
w                                 e
e                                  e
e                                  w
d                                              r
s                                               e

Swirling Swastika: a Chan (or Zen) Poem

                                    FAMEFAM EM           M
                                                      E          O
                                                      D                      N
                                                      I            E
                                    E               T  
                                    X               A
                                    S                T
                                    E               I
                                    X               NPOWERPOW

The Niagara Falls: A Psycho-Snapshot

suddenly and simultaneously into the same

Above the Skyline

gOd                 h
                        man  S t  a   rs
                        g  come  t  s
    drea    ms     n
                        a   cl  o u ds  
    ki    tes     I
                    o bir d   s
smoky          n       mists


w                           yhavetowearapairofglassesy                                 b
 I                              o                                    o                                    e
T                              u                                    u                                    t
H                             c                                    c                                                t
O                             a                                    a                                                 e
U                             n                                    n                                      r
Tcanyouseewhatyoul                                    ookatorlookatwhatyoucanc

Keatsian Variation

Heard melodies__________________
                        Are sweet        those
      Unheard                are________
Sweeter           _________________
songs             sung_______________

            Are fragrant ______________
    Those                       unsung_____
                  Are even _____________

Home: A Logo Poem


The Triumph of the Eight Trigrams

 The creative:   yangyangyangyangyangyangyangyang

the clinging:    yangyangyangyangyangyangyangyang
                        yinyinyinyin                     yinyinyinyin

the dragon:      yinyinyinyin                     yinyinyinyin
                        yinyinyinyin                     yinyinyinyin

The receptive:  yinyinyinyin                     yinyinyinyin
                        yinyinyinyin                     yinyinyinyin
                        yinyinyinyin                     yinyinyinyin

In Times like This

No good news is news.
News, news is no good.
Is no news good news?
Good news is no news.
News is no good news.

Personal Politics

The present writing subject
The Chinaman called CY
The clone of my entire being inside out
The living creature sin-numbered as 646095813
The biofather of George and Allen
The author of this sensible nonsense
A statistic, waiting to be
Posthumously digitalized
And what else?
The Fat Fabulous

easy-going, they
gab; they
grin; they
giggle; they
guffaw; they
gossip; they
gyrate; they
goof off; they
galumph; gooey

On the Road
Road closed
Construction ahead
Expect delay

Construction ahead
Expect delay
Road closed

Expect delay
Road closed
Construction ahead

Road closed
Construction ahead
Expect delay

In the Prairies

There are
No pens
No fence
No railings
No windbreaks
No walls
And no boundaries
Except whirlwinds
Blowing wildly
Across the territory
As another little grass
Tries breaking the earth
Like a new syllable
Sprouting at the tongue tip

Cats Cradle

in my heart is hidden
      a rambling sentence
strictly syntaxed
      with too many stressed syllables
      but without any semantic focus
so Ive trimmed it into a loveline
not too long or too thick
      yet strong enough for you
to play cats cradle
      with your idioms


Beside the Ball of Limbo

Your themes are plein-air
            entwined and

Sharpen my pen, Muse
with wit and will
so that
            i can
this non-tangible tangle
of sad and stubborn

 Allen in Wonderland




 Incomplete Imperatives

While the sun is sleeping
While the hope is being prolonged
While the winter is not really arriving yet
While the egg remains hatched
While the vapor stays in the air
While the grass grows
While the fish swims in the water
While the house stands firm
While the cherry tree blossoms
While the iron is still hot

Harmony of Homonyms

Assent of ads adds to the ascent
Blue buses blew busses
Chaste councils chased counsels
Dyed days died in daze
Earls elicit illicit URLs
Fazed fays faze phased
Guys in guise graphed to graft
Hairy Harry heals heels
Idols idle in idyle
Jugglers jammed in jambed jugulars
Knights knock at the nocks of nights
Leased lyers are least liars

Mind mined in mist missed
Nice gneiss on nickers’ knickers
Overdo once one’s overdue
Past profits passed prophets
Quays quoined with coined cays
Ryes rise with rows of rose
Sighted symbols are symbols cited
Tales about trust are tails trussed
Urns earned have no use for ewes
Violed verse versus vale vialed in veil
Weeks whiled are wild weaks
Xi sighs with psi in size
Yoke your yore in yolk
Zealous Zellers zooms in zooms

Word Herding

The words I have captured are wild
You warned me they would fly
But I really wanted to give a try
Taming them into birds nice and mild

Within the edges of this blank page
They long to return to the open wood
But I enclose them with delicate mood
Even if they might die as if in a cage

Just A Quick Note
To have
The lock
I had

Voices: Active vs Passive

To say
Everyman loves a woman
Is not to say
A woman is loved by everyman

Grammatical Groundwork

in the overly exploited mine of vocabulary
      he digs deep into the ores hard and shiny

at the heavily guarded garden of syntax
      he keeps pruning his trees dripping with green

among the wildly running crowds of syllables
      he skillfully cowboys his colts cute and lively

Hyper Grammatical Poems (1): Preposition

Exactly like a coordinate system
You locate
Any nominal identity
In time
In space
In logic

More like a physical linkage
You enjoy introducing
Each solitary soul
As an object
In an adjective or adverbial phrase
To modify
The more important elements of
A muted human statement

Hyper Grammatical Poems (2): Conjunction

A marriage broker
Males and females
For sexual intimacy

Or subordinating
A car, a computer, a house
To a home owner

Or correlating
Two ideas, two emotions, two parties
In a human context

Hyper Grammatical Poems (3): Verb

Just as the child
Plays the most dynamic role
In the life of a family
You make a statement alive
By acting
Or simply

Hyper Grammatical Poems (4): Pronoun

Like a stage play
Reenacting an experienced
Or un-experienced
Moment in space
A place in time
Before an eager audience
To make their daily existence
Less repetitive
Less cumbersome
Less political    

Faulty Comparison with My Hometown

Like Vancouver, the climate of heart is mild all year round
Unlike the Lower Mainland, it is very hot in mid-China

The grasses on Grouse Mountain are similar to Luojia Mountain
The trees in Stanley Park are taller than the East Lake Park

The salmons in the Fraser River swim as far as the Yangtse River
Most residents in BC live much longer than Hubei Province

Real Or Unreal Conditionals

As if the chrysanthemum leaf were more tender than the petal
As if the china cat were being chased by a cloned mouse
As if money became something like air or sunlight
As if god were to come to rescue your name or fame in particular at the end of the world
As if the knob could tune up love or wisdom
As if the sounds were more brilliant than cherry blossoms
As if the butterflies had never seen a flower
As if the sun were to rise every other month from the north
As if language and art were not modern behavior
As if I had really found the way to become a god after my death
As if you were all to live to 800 years
As if all the world
s water began to drain away from our planet tomorrow
As if consciousness evolved into the only form of intelligent beings…

Subjunctive Mood Unsubjugated

I would jump madly with joy
I would go to the depth of limberlost to die an elephant’s death
I would charge forward with my car as if it were a super tank
I would tattoo the words on my butt and nake-run wildly in broad daylight
I would fuck my love to death at a bare hilltop
I would blast myself into a million bloody pieces
I would nail the president on a swirling swastika in front of a Buddhist temple
I would shoot like a burning comet beyond the milk way
I would cry my whole heart out and all my tears dry
I would stop the earth from rotating for seven days to recreate the world
I would put God in a blue cage before hanging it on Babel Tower
I would drive all spirits and ghosts back into their human shapes
I would roar like a whale pushing the sound waves three thousand miles away
I would…


Ten, turn tight.
Nine, note night

Eight, alienate April
Seven, Satan saddens

Six, spirits secrets
Five, fight fire

Four, forward force
Three, thread throes

Two, tourist tools

The Beginning

When I was one
I found my bun

When I was ten
I found my pen

When I was twenty
I found my Wendy

When I was thirty
I found the air dirty

When I was forty
I found life naughty

When I am fifty and sixty and seventy and eighty
How much more findings I will make and feel hasty?

Coarse Language: A Four-Letter Poem

They fart, they fick, they feck, they foak
They piss, they pish, they puss, they poop
They darn, they dump, they dick, they dyke
--Can’t they ever live with more love than fuck?   

I Love You

Is certainly the most abused utterance
Made by so many men and women
On so many occasions
In so many languages and dialects
It has become a meaningless euphemism
Of such as:
I want to fuck you
I want to talk dirty with you
I want to kiss you, touch you
Smell you, hear you, watch you
But if I say what I mean to say
You would be offended, scared
Disgusted, appalled, though you may well
Want to say exactly the same to someone else
So damn hypocritical

I fuck you     

QUX: Waltz of Alphabet 

[A]bide one [B]arrow
[C]art another [D]ear
[E]late in the [F]air
[G]love the [H]owl
[I]deal with the [J]ail
[K]ill to [L]earn
[M]arch the [N]arc
[O]pen a [P]lay
[R]ice for the [S]crawl
[T]angle the [V]ale
[W]rite about the [Z]one

Should ‘I’ Join the Word: An Anagram Poem

The flute would become futile
The printed could turn intrepid
The gale might grow agile
The glue would feel like guile
The stratagem might smell like a magistrate
The brush could look like hubris
The barter would sound like an arbiter

English vs Chinese (2): Similar Similes

As bitter as wormwood as goldthread rhizome
As bold as brass as the city wall
As happy as a cow as a lark
As old as the hills as the sky and the land
As tall as the Maypole as the wire pole
As cunning as a dead pig as a fox
As drunk as a mouse as mud
As thirsty as a camel as a dragon
As dumb as an oyster as a bottle
As hungry as a bear as a wolf
As industrious as an ant as a bee
As timid as a rabbit as a mouse
As stupid as a goose as a pig
As stubborn as a mule as an ox
As hardworking as a horse as a water buffalo
As wet as a drowned rat or hen
As listless as a hen or ant on the girdle

X Missing: Provincial Proverbs

Affection blinds season
Beauty may have fair flower, but ugly roots
Caesar’s wife must be above suspension
Drink only with the luck
Enough is as good as a beast
Fire that’s closest kept burns most in the fall
Good face is better than a good base
Handsome is as handsome buzz
Injuries are written in glass
Jill has every jack
Knowledge is no burden
Love is full of beer, love is without season
Money is often lost for want of honey
Nature is above nurture
One man’s feat is another man’s shit
Present to the eye, present to the kind
Question for question is filled with air
Reward and punishment are the calls of pity
Slow but sure wins the face
Trust is the mother of defeat
United we band, divided we call
Variety is the spice for a wife
Willows are weak but never bend for good
Youth never lasts for peril
Zeal without knowledge is a runaway source

Rain and Poetry

it is raining
      raining again
in vancouver

i am trying
      trying again
to write poetry

raining / writing
writing / raining
until somehow
they are related
      within my room
just rented

During their Dialogues

Behind the words they exchange
Hides a wild snow-covered animal

It seems like a sleek but wounded panther
Squatting under the thick bushes of syllables

Stop and listen with their cagey minds
They can smell its bleeding sighs

But neither of them has seen its true face
As it occasionally appears and disappears

Table of Contents
1.      Immigration
2.      Yellow Comedy
3.      Sell Liberation of Word’s Worth
4.      Word Collage
5.      Word Vogue
6.      In No Sense, in a Sense
7.      Light vs Shadow
8.      An Apocrypha of A
9.      Spelling Test
10.    The Banishment of First Person Singular
11.    Etymology of Love
12.    Dangling Modifier
13.    Another Impasse
14.    Still Life
15.    On a Rainy Day
16.    Behest Impressed
17.    Collage of Voices
18.    The Cosmic Music
19.    The Way Forward
20.    Chanson of a Chinaman
21.    Fragile, Archaic China
22.    Lexical Tourism
23.    Media Warning
24.    Provincial Proverbs
25.    Sexual Slogans
26.    The Black Bird
27.    Awaiting
28.    Reading behind the Lines
29.    English Irrationalities
30.    Politics vs Poetics
31.    The Canadian Comedy
32.    English Kanata
33.    At the Eagle Pass
34.    Open Opera
35.    Behind a Ballad
36.    Content Words
37.    Across the Vast Open Range
38.    Interpreting a Poem
39.    The Making of a Best Poem
40.    Poetry Penning
41.    This Is a Line
42.    The White Goose
43.    East Idioms (1)
44.    East Idioms (2)
45.    East Idioms (3)
46.    East Idioms (4)
47.    East Idioms (5)
48.    East Idioms (6)
49.    East Idioms (7)
50.    East Idioms (8)
51.    Prosperous Tomorrow Programmed
52.    Earthling Calling
53.    ICQ
54.    In the Lakeheart
55.    Swirling Swastika
56.    The Niagara Falls
57.    Above the Skyline
58.    Eyeglasses
59.    Keatsian Variation
60.    Home
61.    The Triumph of Eight Trigrams
62.    In Times like This
63.    Personal Politics
64.    The Fat Fabulous
65.    On the Road
66.    In the Prairies
67.    Cat’s Cradle
68.    Beside the Ball of Limbo
69.    Allen in Wonderland
70.    Will
71.    Incomplete Imperatives
72.    Harmony of Homonyms
73.    Word Herding
74.    Just a Quick Note
75.    Voices
76.    Grammatical Groundwork
77.    Hypergrammatical Poems (1): Preposition
78.    Hypergrammatical Poems (2): Conjunction
79.    Hypergrammatical Poems (3): Verb
80.    Hypergrammatical Poems (4): Pronoun
81.    Faulty Comparison with My Hometown
82.    Real Or Unreal Conditionals
83.    Subjunctive Mood Unsubjugated
84.    Set
85.    Beginning
86.    Coarse Language
87.    I Love You
88.    QUX
89.    Should ‘I’ Join the Word
90.    English vs Chinese (2): Similar Similies
91.    X-Missing
92.    Rain and Poetry
93.    During Their Dialogues