Sunday, 21 April 2013

[archived]: Poems by Changming Yuan © -1/2009

Dragon Drawing
Even though born blind, each of them declares his version to be the most faithful representation of the real original loong, , draco or drake…

The Model: Paws like a tigers
Claws like an eagles
Scales like a carps
Belly like a frogs
Neck like an iguanas
Horns like a deers
Head like a camels
Ears like a bulls
Eyes like a hares

The Image: Huge, scaly, horned, talon-footed, bat-winged, lizard/dinosaur-bodied and fire-breathing
Picture One: Paws and claws like those of something between a tiger and a talon
Scales like those of something between a carp and a lizard
Body like that of something between a frog and a dinosaur
Neck like that of something between an iguana and a python
Horns like those of something between a deer and a bull
Head like that of something between a camel and a hippo
Wings like those of a huge bat and


There are winds to lead and winds to avoid
There are winds to sweep like a million unseen brooms
Winds to break every head on the bare land
Winds to caress or flirt with the tenderest spring petals
Winds to uproot century old oak or willow trees
Winds like heavy sighs of history blowing out every light
Winds of leaves, flowers, rains, snows, sand and dust
Winds that whisper, winds that whistle like screaming monsters
Winds that you can never walk against, pushing buildings and cities

Winds that swirl around and make the whole world dizzy
Winds that drive waves upon beaches like stampeding horses
Winds that send roofs, beds and pigs up above dark clouds
There are winds that blow all golden sunshine into white winter
Winds that strike human hearts like bells ringing fiercely
Winds that never stop waving, wallowing and warring
Even if you long for just one damned moment of peace

-Those Wild Geese

Little clouds of fossilized sunshine
Now flying mute
And leaving behind their shadows
All the songs of the morning

Until they are shot down
Like flute dots

The last calls they make
Their only songs

-First Day of Death

I wonder
If it will really snow
As broadcast seven days ago
I wonder
If the potted azalea beside my fireplace
Is starting to wither at this moment
I wonder
If I will run into some old friends
I made in history books, and
I wonder how my sons
Are wondering
Where my soul is wandering

on A. K. Ramanujans Self-Portrait

you sound so similar to everyone
but yourself, and seldom speak to a non-human being
to conform with the law
of acoustics
the voice of a street guy
pitch so familiar
yet reluctant to echo
from soul to soul

-Like a Lamp
on Grace Nicholss Like a Beacon

in Vancouver west
from time to time
you just cannot help yelling, yearning
for your fathers humming
you fumble into musical halls
in pursuit of tunes
soft/hard utterances

you need this feeling

you need this contact
with origin
guiding your heart
like a lamp
along a forlorn road


when I am scheduled to die I shall stop dreaming and play
with a brown bear that lolls and wallows in a stream
and I shall climb onto a tall pine tree in the zoo
and roar loudly like the lion king towards the rolling autumn sky
I shall sit and help myself to a pile of fatty foods
With my mouth wide open and make all the eating noises I can
Jaywalking, trespassing and even running a little red light

You can give up your names and masks
And throw away all your clothes and manners
And stop caring about whatever others say or do to you

But we worry about our bills and savings
And concern ourselves with what is going on
Within sight or beyond our living rooms

Perhaps you can put a bit of everything on rehearsal now
And refuse to do whatever you would rather not want to
Since you are scheduled to die shortly, anyway

-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?

-My Dad

My dad has shrunk quite a bit
And begun to look up at me now
But I do not look down upon him, partly
Because he used to be much taller

-Two Ultimate Truths

When the whole cosmos collapses into chaos again
All life or non-life forms will be destroyed into void
Except the few lines you have composed for time

When all the cells of your body stop functioning
Every dollar you have accumulated will begin to work
To recall them to life without your ever knowing it

-Love Lines

1. You are the only man/woman in my entire world
2. If only I could have a chance to die for you
3. Finally, I have had someone to smile at or cry to for anything or nothing at all
4. Were I to die tomorrow, I would have nothing to regret about
5. Thank your parents for having not only given birth to but also brought you up
6. I am most grateful to God for giving you to me
7. You fit me like the key to the lock
8. No, I dare not marry you; the very idea blasphemes your noble body
9. You are simply so so very clean

-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.

-Past vs Present

Youd better stop throwing
Your pasts
This mirror embedded within the future

Or you will get your selfhood hurt by
The broken
That you can never put back into a whole

-White Spirits

under a darkening sky
I look up and ask high:
Why not deliver a colorful snowfall?
And a trillion butterflies dance nearby

As if in a fairy tale

-Autumn Rain

The drizzle has finally stopped
All the wet has swarmed into raindrops
And fallen flat on the ground
Except this one that continues traveling along
Soon it will slip out the twigs desperate hold
Like a gold coin between a dying misers fingers

The last leaf of a naked tree
The last dew of a forgotten season

-The Clay Tripod

Close to the bank of the Yangtze River
Sits an unearthed tripod
That has embraced
Spring water
Burning incense
Sesame oil
Rice wine
And opium
The tripod is none other than you
But what is the tripod?


Two little crows
Popping up
From nowhere
Try to
Establish themselves:
Two truths
On the skeletal tree top
Yawing fiercely
Towards the sky, the wind, the buildings
The fields and the entire afternoon
All so fluffy white
In jade-toned snow

-The Short Cut

He leaves the path into dawn
Well knowing where it ends
He will cross a small stream
And stop his pursuit of a hotel

At the border of the brightest moment
He will put aside all his loads
He will stand up to set off
And as he moves, he will search

He will chew grass roots
And drink the dew he gathers
Before darkness sets in he will sit
Himself down to rest and begin to dream


Just you look at me, rapeflowers
Spreading to the borders of harvest
My palms gloved with calluses
My boots marked with seeds

Just you listen to me, bullfrogs
When they whistle to us aloud
My heart is full of songs
My mouth is full of silences

Just you flirt with my shadow, topsoils
Cast for the land to love
The wheat is ripe with musings
The fields are filled with me


In hell, the food is the same
Exactly the same ladle, with a meter-long handle
Each trying to use it to feed himself
Yet each suffering from more hunger

In heaven, the food is the same
Exactly the same ladle, with a meter-long handle
Each trying to use it to feed another
So each getting everything he wants


How anyone
Is seen
So murky--
A pond of water
In a storm
Only sunlight might
Polish into a mirror
A lights long line
Or one fellow light
From Longfellow

-Senses Un-serviced


Mommy, mommy, the boy said
Am I not a girl
Yes, you are, honey
So I proved it to them
How did you do that
I showed them my badge
For the girls club


Item by item
The little boy
Put goods
In his mothers shopping cart
Overwhelmingly bigger
Than his concept of money
When the whole world
Is nobody elses but his alone


Sitting among
Fisher prices
Like a little Buddha
The infant is lost
In its meditation
Over an empty bottle
All too plain
To be a toy


How the nets of this universe
Mend themselves
It is impossible to say
Or if you say to see
That this is what you have
Said. Few crevices in the closet
Of an open mind
Where you rarely see what you say to look at
Though broken
There are nets
Above all

-Drawing-the-Dragon*: A-Parallel-Poem

There was a contest
For the most faithful representation
Of loong
(Or the Chinese dragon)

In England

An inflated Satan
Or was it Sua proper
Came to squat among
The letters

Then stroke by stroke, again
It rose right
Each slate of white


*This poem is inspired by my friend Dr Zhijian Tao’s dissertation at McGill University, Drawing the Dragon: Western European Reinvention of China (New York: Peter Lang, 2009).

-Do Clouds Stop for You

Do clouds stop for you
You dont em
You say move


I fallen
With your raindrops
You with my sweat

Your shadows pressing
Below you


Blood withers
My body is a pickle
I am bathing it

Yes I am cold-boiling
His stem, veins and leaves
Deeply soaked in my self-assertions

How he absorbed my spirits
From the quasi paradoxes
Of his senses

Till I stuffed
The whole vegetable
With my salty whims

Swollen like an apple
Bare as a twig
His fantasies hydrated

To revive him
Fresh from the brink
I demand to die

-If Omitted

Had yesterday lasted a month longer
Were the earth flattened today, or
Should the mind become separated
From the body tomorrow…


You can
Get rid of
Your own
You are
Part of
Light itself
There is
No light
To begin with

-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 Zongs 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


Again, the tremors
Have you ever felt em?
I often do

You say
It must be an earthquake
Or the palpitations of your own heart

But you know neither is true

Was it the house foundation
As a heavy metal monster
Running past invisibly?


is it not
the burst bubbles
of whims and wishes
that made us all
such a fine
evening glow?


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

-Home: A-Logo-Poem



The first few years
After they moved to their new house
They keep it fresh and shiny
With the new original paint
Resistant to oil, water, even graffiti

Then, time and time again
With care, patience and precision
One sands and smoothes the walls
As the other fills in all the empty crevices
Both with similes, metaphors or paradoxes

When the fence became rotten outside
And holes and cracks crawling around
above the fireplace, in kitchen corners
And more stuffs accumulated in forgotten closets
They tire of repairing and even painting
Yeah, others have either changed their houses
Or moved away
Even before they paid off their mortgages
Only they hoped to renovate theirs
With the little savings they have

It used to be their dream house
Only too costly to rebuild



Truth :: beauty

Beauty :: truth

The two zoom simultaneously
At the very first ray tickling the mind of
The sleeper




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?


A whole body of teeth
Nothing but teeth

To chew the passing summer

We bite off from you
All the pearl-like memories
Tinged with sunlight

A hard but juicy kiss


With so many masks
Each getting fresher
Finer, fairer
And closer
To your heart

Your masks are your body
Your body is your face
Is your face your mask
Or your heart itself?

You have never been a forbidden fruit
Not even to Eve


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 arms 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


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


scene i
A: Would like to try some of these grapes:
B: Sure! Did you grow them yourself?
A: Yep! How do you like em?
B: Very sweet and juicy. In fact, tastier than any other stuff Ive eaten. Can we sign something like a sole agency agreement so that I can sell them for you?
A: Oh, no, it is just an experiment in my own garden.

scene ii
A: Try some of these! You would probably like them.
C: Yummy! Really good! You yourself grew them?
A: Yeah. I have developed a new species.
C: Really? How about mass growing your grapes? I will finance your expansion, I mean joint venture of some kind?
A: Gosh, I have never given a thought to that!

scene iii
A: Have some more of my grapes, Mr. Alderman!
D: Why not! It tastes really terrific!
A: But you did not seem to like them as much as yesterday?
D: Did I? No, I remember saying I love your wonderful grapes. Is there anything I can do for you, to promote your grapes, for instance?
A: Come on! I did not offer you the grapes for that!

scene iv
A: Hi, you couple look kind of weird today. Is there anything wrong?
E+F: Your grapes!
A: My grapes?
E: Since my wife had a taste of your stuff the other day, she has been going through a hard time. She fights with me for nothing, she is irritable, she….
A: What is wrong then? Have you seen a doctor?
F: I love what you said to me when you offered us your grapes.
A: What did I say? How about my grapes?
E: Were you trying to seduce my wife, or did your grapes contain some chemicals?
A: I do not follow you, Gentleman!

scene v
A: You are happy, arent you! Help yourself with more of my grapes.
G: Thank God! They are so delicious!
A: If you really like them, take as many as you can!
G: Unbelievable! Is this a free lunch or something? Are you a philanthropist?
A: Not really. But you do like these grapes though?
G [taking of his pants and trying to put as many grapes as possible into them]
A [aside]: I wonder if there is anyone here who loves my grapes at all?!


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


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


alas! you sensitive secretive songster
knowing every secret spirit of the forest
and all the spirits secrets in the mists
you keep calling and singing blindly
until your throat becomes all blood-blocked

you never care, nor are you aware
how many ears have heard your sounds
how many eyes will see your figure proper
except some casual hikers going astray
or a couple of local firewood gatherers

you just keep singing and calling blindly
you singular solitary singing species

-- when it looks in a mirror, what color does it have?

changing your skin color
with light
or emotion

they know it for sure

but isnt it
their eyes
with their minds
their hearts
their tongues
longer even than yours

we are actually colorless
arent we?

-In the English Bay

the waves surging towards the seashore
not unlike my spirits

the seashore embracing the waves
not unlike your arms

a whale seems trying to jump above the water
like what is not supposed to be unlike
On Osler Street, Vancouver West

somewhere down my neighborhood
as if the sun and moon were melting
all the cherry twigs tinged with spring
like morning glows fallen in the wood

beside the freshly mown lawns I jog
both my steps and breaths in keeping
with every little bare cluster humming
such a sweet tune in the silvery fog

is my residence here but a day dream
or is the day dream my residence here?


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

ching chong, chinee
chink, chinky, chonky
so am i made a dead enemy of civility
growing grotesque against values in white reality
because i hate freedom as much as human rights
although i have the right to be a human entity

ching chong, chinee
chink, chinky, chonky
so will i be seen a species of non-conformity
an inflated satan 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 Chanson for Canton (London: Punch, 1858), a telling example illustrative of the deeply-rooted and long-held western tradition to demonize China as culturally the most disparate Other.


for years I sought light in darkness
with my eyes open wide as my mouth
I called, I sang, I prayed, I pleaded
for rays that might come down from above

now I seek darkness in light instead
with my ears closed tight as my eyes
yet I cannot find a shred of my soul's
shadow, even in a midnight dream

-Reflections on Earth-Breaking

flesh is
but spirit is
not secret


there is no borderline
between sea and sky

waves are pushing their colors
up towards the air, bloating
their calls and songs to bold
changing shapes

it is a world within nature
presenting itself, or what
cannot be represented elsewhere

separated from the mind
the frame always trying to capture
a few fish swimming in the waters

-The Art of Postmodern Arithmetic

one plus one

two minus two

three times three
leads to

four divided by four
amounts to

Although perching in the some grove, the husband and the wife fly in different directions when the trees suddenly fall down. Chinese Proverb

like common-laws living on land
youve never gone through a ceremony
but you share privacy and publicity alike
in the minimal space of time
at the maximum moment of space

after days of months of years
of playing intimately in the water
beside the reeds and duckweeds
you have begun to look like each other
in almost every physical feature

now, as a violent storm rises above the lake
do you feel enough limerence to stay here?


breaking, broken
bare bricks on the Berlin Wall
collected from the ruins
to build a transparent bridge
between the past and the future

broken, breaking
earthen bricks for Badalin Ridge
baked in a dragon fire
to repair and strengthen the long wall
separating the prairies farther from the gobi

-The Birds and the Mountaineer

in their glaring voices
unseen birds are singing
unaware of strangers
approaching step by step
down in the foothills

while the lonely climber
keeps breathing quietly
for fear of awakening
the immortals dozing off
right above his spirits

-You, Or

of the crew
will preview
or inter-view
the new
of a dew
on the yew

-9 Nicknames for a Poet

1. shepherd of words
2. juggler of syllables
3. alchemist of ideas
4. collagist of sound patterns
5. singer of imagery
6. prince of a linguistic kingdom
7. addict to wild thinking
8. crow with white wings
9. god of a personal religion


beyond the shadow
you are the presence
of a shadow
that is
rarely the reality
whenever you are
you are not what is present

where you stand
you join the light
and never
the light disperses
to fill in the moments
when your spirit is absent

few others have the impulses
for standing
but you do
to chase something absent


so little triggers

a black bird
the nexus of antithesis

foiled with snow

to fly into the vast history of


often am I attempted
to rid of
this little mustache of manhood

so I spread
the foam of self-exposure
above my lips
for cleaning

that was when I took off my mask
to try to look younger

but my Allen said
I was not even a human
without that mustache


night of sky in the sea, bursting
with clouds and whales and chrysanthemums

night of sky in my mind flat
when my meditative spirit stays still
among shapes and sounds, like a lotus-eater

night of sky in the sky, deep night
when my imaginings are starfish finding themselves
swimming closer to the carrel tree, to their nests


come on, you guys, I am no longer a kid now
I have the right to vote like you old folks do
and if I really want to, I could always drink too
or play in a casino as you probably know how

but I dont drink or smoke beyond your sight
nor do I have anything to do with any gangster
let alone snuck out to loud parties at midnight

I know how much green vegetable to eat
I know how often I should wash my hands
I also know how to keep my own room neat

I have never skipped classes in the past year or so
I have never forgot to hand in my home assignments
I have never been detained for any behavior low

I am sorry I cannot promise my marks would be high
I cannot promise I would win the next math contest
I cannot promise to be more outstanding than the rest
but this I promise you: I would give it one heck of try

I can in deep waters keep myself float
I can support myself with a government loan
since I have grown up with dreams of my own
let go of me, just let me row my own boat

-The River and the Bridge

over that little meandering river
flowing anonymously from my boyhood
there used to be no bridge

but we could cross it anywhere, any time:
we rode a little ferry boat in spring
and nake-swam to the opposite bank in summer
when it became as dry as reeds and straw
we trudged a trail like a small stream
and when it was frozen with sand and gravel
we walked on the thickest ice we could find
not knowing how to ski
nor did we fear losing our balance
between boyish dreams and the cold winter

since I left Lianhuadang long ago
a bridge has been built
thus becoming the only place
and the only way
to get to the other side of that same river



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

-Birds at Risk

your songs and calls all recorded
your body vividly stuffed
your genes being digitalized
your species already cloned

now we seem living a posthumous life
we have become shadows of ourselves
among so much bustling and hustling
we are dying, birds, dying


meeting you face to face
you seem to hide yourself
behind a fog in another world

separated by the pacific in between
you often look like the flower
blooming on my window ledge

have a blue dream
and you will see a little cloud
drifting around like me
near that borderline

I have packed you up tightly
into my backpack, the luggage
I cannot consign, or sent by mail
but carry it with me
close to my chest

you are neither light
nor heavy, but you will
occupy a solid space
in the closet of my heart

-On Top of Mt Heavenson

in a silvery sea of thick mists
surging and sweeping towards the slanting sun
all peaks keep looming in and out
like wanton islands playing in the wild
some hiding behind nouns and verbs
others seeking adjectives and adverbs
among all figures of speech

and still others trying to watch the show
in bushy silence, like you and me


squatting around in a foggy field

each flushed with protests
against frost coming all too soon

Buddha puts you there
to guard an entire season
but we will relocate you
to guard our empty houses

the last of a fast fading landscape
the last to ripen

-Dialectic Dialogue

the bell rings aloud
though no wind is blowing

the bird flies afar
though it remains still

the sky is filled up
though there are no stars or clouds

the sound is heard
though it lacks a voice

no human is coming
though roads are everywhere

nothing is disappearing
into this present absence

-Dialectical Dialogue (2)

the intensity of the night
grows into a dream
that rises like a cloud
drifting above the skyline

the emptiness of the day
shrinks into a tiny mouth
that blows like a whistle
forgotten in a drawer

isnt that morning glow
all made from such bright paradoxes
hatched in the dark?

-Dialectical Dialogue (3)

every movement of life is a break
all inactivity another break
in the broad daylight
the interacting between the two
gives us all the freak

every dream is a bypass
all death another bypass
in the heart of night
the overlapping of the two
covers the world with glass


you can only talk
about what you used to do
and do
what you used to talk about

you shrink in both ways
and both ways are
the only way
to shrink

whats supposed to be hard
softens like a boiled noodle
whats supposed to be tender
hardens like a winter stone

one attempt
on top of another, they say

or, rather, one attemptable night
after another


was that all
that was all
in a sense!
all was that
in no sense?!

-Private Enjoyment

each night
I retreat to my bed
taking off all the clothes
from my body and soul
and, always, a cluster of consonants
elbow into my mind
murmuring voicelessly
and burying me deep
into my pillow
filled with vowels


I tried to join
the songs of birds
or clouds
but both
birds and clouds
turned me down
so I kept
flying like a bird
with songs held in my heart
and singing like a cloud
with my spirits drifting under the sun


the goose has been floating
so long in the lake
its body above the water
becomes a picture, the rest
a rotten stick

the goose above the water
is more graceful than a swan

the goose under the water
is fossilized

in the heart of that lake
there is nothing
but a picture
of a goose-like figure
ever so bold and vivid

-Night Rain

flocks of tiny transparent birds
pecking at the opaque roof
as if to dig a sweet nest
right above my dream

I know it is not drumming from Africa
That is resonating with my heartbeat

-The Mouse,-A Mouse

if the little mouse became
as boundless as the sky as it wishes

the sky would become
as free as a cloud

the cloud
as powerful as a wind

and if the wind became
as unshakable as a wall

the wall would become
as penetrating as a mouse

and the little mouse
a mouse

-The Objective Case of a Pronoun

no statement begins with me
a word never capitalized
never allowed to be the subject
but doomed
to substitute an other
to receive action, always passively
even within quotation marks
in italics
or in the title itself

o, for a momentary justice
me to be an entity rather than a pro-form

-Defining a True Artist

a true artist is one who creates out of imagination
and one who does not create out of imagination

a true artist is one who dies together with others or lives alone forever
and one who does not die together with others or live alone forever

a true artiest is one concerned with beauty only
and one who is not concerned with beauty only

a true artist is one who dances wildly within a cage
and one who does not dance wildly within a cage

-Good Day, Damocles

So, we have refastened the sword above your head
With a digitalized net instead of a horse hair

Fear, the one you have been plagued by
Will never ruin your Macdonalds or chop suey
Hanging like a candle

Good day, Democracy

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