Wednesday, 26 March 2025

[archived poems by yuan: 2020-2©]




2020, 12, 19, [Saturday]



Reinterpretations of Dreams



Constructed from the residues of yesterday

Says Freud, the dream is a detachment of

The soul from the fetters of matter. More exactly

Perhaps, it’s an enactment of the inner self

In an exotic movie, a compromise between

The conscious & the unconscious

A surreal life led by an immigrant from

An other universe, or a superexistence

Maintained with a parallel world



A dreamless life is only half-lived. Just as

Day-dreaming is the scratching of a desire

On the itchy heart, so night-dreaming is

The harvesting of all the plants growing

Wildly in an open field. Simply, dream is but

Another form taken by the meaning per se





Man’s Last Position



Against all the hardships of life is held

In the very depth of his heart, where

Hides a vivid portrayal of some woman





Body Defects



1/

Born with a weakest vision, my left eye

Functions as a decoration, which I have

Reserved for insight into every spot

Of my inner being as my right eye gets

Abused & worn out day in day out

By what can be seen in the outer world



2/

Given an innate hole in my heart muscle

(The bullet wound from my previous life?)

I have enough inner space to hold all

The unwanted feelings against ischemia



3/

With two vertebrae fused together in my neck

I cannot turn around easily for a shoulder check

So I just keep driving all the way forward

Despite jams, among accidents, to my own end



4/

My spine tube only half the normal diameter

Less is created and circulated as I manipulate

The balance between body & mind to prevent

Disc herniation or to avoid unbearable suffering





Unrequited Love



You are the tall mountain across the valley

That ever remains as silent as the sky

Except the echo of my own calls & songs





Among Three: a Neotheosophical Poem



Thesis antithesis synthesis

Here there no/some-where

Now past future

This that an other

I/ego you/id they/superego

Earth/purgatory hell/inferno sky/heaven

Kameloka rupaloka arupaloka

East/up/front/right west/down/back/left middle

Confucianism Christianity Islam?

Good truth beauty?

Dao numbers







Three Lifetimes



Both before birth

& after death, we

All have plenty of time

To deal with darkness, but

In this present moment we

Have only a limited fraction of a minute

To live in light. Why then

Not set every second tight

Against to-night?





By Extension



I hate daytime when it belongs to

The vast majority & opens like

A wholesale marketplace of

Masks, & when there is no poet

Complains a 12-year-old Chinese boy



Likewise, you would avoid

Going to heaven since the door is too



Narrow for the indefinite width of the human

Mind, the queue is too long for patience, &

The space is too small for the crowds

While there is simply no parallel reality





Horse in the Rain



Standing still on a huge rock

The pale horse holds its head high

As if it had been running at full speed

On a wild range, looking up afar

To the most distant mountain



Its eyes glittering as raindrops

Keep falling from heaven

Straightly down to hell, &

Water-carving its paleness

Into a demonic statue of history





At Some Future Moment



At some future moment, demons start to revolt

With ghosts from under the ground

Struggling fiercely to possess fleshly bodies



Trees begin to grow downward, birds suddenly

Drop dead as if obeying a universal order

Sentiments sweating out of skin, tattooed or not



At a future moment, every movement of man &

Machine is halted in blood as all sound & fury

Became depressed, words evaporated



Nets or links broken, thoughts dried, waters

Boiling into darkness, mountains covered with

Faggots, snakes flying amuck in foiled flocks



At some future moment, each mind resonates

With a skyquake as all buildings collapse

In a tsunami filled with viruses & monsters





Transview



Darkness-dwellling, gnawing their way

Into our house and stealing food, but

These are all human descriptions of us

For ourselves, we are just trying to survive

By looking something to eat.



In their version

Of the story, the serpent is the evil devil

Seducing Eve to bite the apple, though it was

Actually doing nothing but to inspire a fellow

Creature to defy the tyrannical rule of God







Living vs Lived



All the time, we have been living well

With free will until now we start

To be lived by algorithm

Within the

Information cocoon, for the internet

With chips, among robots, yes

We are all being lived until then to be

Outlived by humanborgs, by godlings





On the Stage: After Shakespeare



Yesterday, yesterday, and yester-

Day has gone with the west wind

One after another to the fading &

Formless pages of history; each



Present moment is blatantly spot-

Lightning the deformed soul

Down, down the heavy curtain!

Death is a zombie starkly zooming



In the back ground of every heart:

We each believe our selves to be

The hero on our own stage

Though we turn out no more than



An extra happening to appear

By mistake in a stranger’s comedy





While Packaging for My Last Trip



To the parallel cosmos, I have thrown

Away all my clothes, masks, e.gadgets

Shoes, souvenirs, even the case itself

For there will be no need for money

Or credit card. The only thing I will need

Is nothing but my own awareness

Of selfhood, of the outer, of the inner

Of ….

Of



Except perhaps a smile suffice?




2020, 11, 17 [Tuesday]



Who I Am: a Biocomic-Philosophical Poem



Looking up to

The darkish infinity of

The outer space, I see

How a star has been growing

Only to die, in (holographic) parallel

With a cell within my body



& come to know my protobeing

& the cosmos as one

& the same: just as I is



The cosmos, so

The cosmos am I





Decoding Autumn



To be the most favoured season

For anyone with a little artistry

Itching within their marrow:



It is the show time for trees

As they become

Most spotlighted

By blooming fully

Towards a bluer & higher sky



Even more fully than spring

Or summer flowers



Yes, autumn trees are most

Congenial to the soul of a painter

As they mark each

Fine hour in a different nuance

Of colour & shape, with each of

Their leaves battling

Fiercely & brilliantly

Against the rhythms of death





Sandglass



Once all your days are put into this half-hearted

Sandglass, you can never hope

To recollect them &

Refill the glass as they are flowing out

& spreading themselves randomly &

Invisibly around

On the floor of history





Cardioid Reviewed: for Qi Hong



R = A (1- Sin Θ)

You don’t get it? me either



But no matter what

Romance always equals Affection

(Times one minus

Self-In-Need

[From a plain angle])



Just as they often say

Rumour = important x ambiguous





Tuner: for Qi Hong



While still in Mayuhe on the other

Side of this world, you somehow gave me

An air-tuner, supposedly to help me

Learn erhu, the violin with only two strings

As a re-educated youth during the Cultural

Revolution, which you somehow asked me

To return to you before I took my long journey

Towards the West

(Like the monkey king?)



Now almost half a century

Later, I forget how to play the instrument

But I can still sing my youthful song of

Love in perfect tune with your chuckles

Like a kite whose string remains in

Your hand however far or high

I have been flying





Changes since the Outbreak of Covid-19



Whether in use or as waste

There are now much more



Masks than condoms, more

Sepa-rates than u-nions, more

Time than space, more

Virtual travellers than

Real traffics, more

Meditations than

Megaparties, more

Democracy than

Freedom, and of course,

More human

Hostilities than

Animal amicabilities



Having managed to lock

Every other animal tightly

In a cage, we are now

Finally caged by an unseen virus







Simply, Why Poetry Is Dying



For all the more published chapbooks

Than writing subjects (& even more

Poetry authors than poetry readers)

Poetry is dying (not into history, but)

Against placement as they compete

With story tellers for each cash prize



Or escape to a taller ivory tower, where

They get too high with too big a dose

Of C2, where they collect most familiar

Words to create no sense, nonsense

Sursense or subsense out of hypersense

& lead every possible sense

Right into the senseless Wasteland





Red Moon Promised: A Haunting Vision



Perhaps in a dream or delirium, but

He did clearly see an enlarged furry beetle

Green-backed, yellow-bellied, flat-bodied

Long neck reaching up like a cobra

Head looking the same as his first class- &

Sex-mate named Red Moon from

A shanghai university, as she kept

Shouting at him high above her voice

Definitely in complaint or protest

But he just cannot hear a single sound

Like a wounded gull lost in darkness

Listening hard to a whale screaming to sky





Their Nights



Beyond her insomnia, a familiar

Face was looming in their study



Have nothing better to do, he reasoned

Sipping from a tall glass



While a lost dog was stalking around

The house, sniffing at a meowing shadow



& pissing every once in a while

To mark its inner dog-matic territory



Whose dog? Was it really a dog? How

Come she felt it sneaking like a cat



Its tongue was so long

Long enough to reach her own heart



Or the heart of his glass, even longer

Than to keep away the devilish virus







Twilighting



You picked a fallen leaf

Coloured like a rainbow



Something that spotlights the slightest

Nuance in colour if not in shape



Perhaps change is the nuance or vice versa

A progressive filing of living rhythms



Against death. I love the way the season

Is withdrawing into the past



You once confessed



To see how the present is passing is

Concurrently to see how



The future is arriving

Both in the same moment



Being & becoming a spectrum of colours

On each & the same autumn leaf







Mamihlapinatapai: for Qi Hong



Totally free

We have rented out each other

To equally total strangers

In this damned & doomed life



But for the next one

We have deadly been engaged

Ready to live happily ever after

A life of matrimonial ecstasy

From our mutual limerence





Razliubit



Just hold all your life in your heart

Like a mug



& all the pleasant

Pain will residue in-

To the bottom, while all

The painful pleasures keep

Dancing on the barm like seraphim



Or otherwise, if you are hungry







Estrangement, Giving



Being myself differs from being a man

A glare sound never echoes beyond the mountain



I have kept shedding blood since I was a teenager

Just to give or not to give birth (to a father



Though I can do so without a boy’s contribution)



There are countless attempts to penetrate my heart

& body if lust is not a loss or legacy of love



The femininity in my brain has a tenderer structure

& texture as I often fumble for the hidden key



To your patriarchy, to your potency in darkness

In darkness, my Lord, I defy Adam’s manhood
































2020, 10, 20 [Tuesday]



Last Letter



Today he finally received the letter

From his long lost first love, actually

Written half a century ago, on a sheet

Of rice paper scented with the smell



Of a forgotten season; her floral hand-

Writing ran like cardiography, the ink

Tasting of tears still reflective of the

Moonlight shining beyond the fields



Folded as a heart-shaped bird, wings

Feathered thickly with a country girl’s

Passion still warm with her youthful

Breath. Now stuffed full with memories



It’s framed within the timelines of his

Pasts as if caged tightly in an unrhymed

Stanza, high above the space of this digital

World, like a deplorably delated dinosaur





Self-Portraying



As a toddler, you began to scrabble wherever

Your little hands could reach. Later on, you

Sketched a bird-like picture in your youth

Until you became a grown up when you work

Every day on each detail, adding a few fine

Lines here, or throwing a drop of paint there



The portrait does not

Really look like you, though it’s an authentic

Manifestation of your true self. Once you

Finish it, your children will hang it high on

A whitewashed wall, where there would be

A spider working hard to catch a fly or ant

Beyond the web, or above your signature







Who Sees Which?



We watch stars only at night

But they observe us attentively even

On broad daylight just as Plato might wish



While you are looking for the star to match

Your spiritron in the summer sky, there is

An illuminating soul trying to locate you now









Journeying



The journey starting

At an old African tree

& ending somewhere

At the settlement on Mars



Is as long as full of pitfalls

& hardships as enjoyable

& even beautiful

As the one starting



At one mind & ending

At another, or starting

& ending at the one

& same heart, is it not?





Tips for Becoming a Great World Citizen in the e.Age


Don’t argue with any numbers, but just follow the google algorithm;
Abide by American interest rather than international law;
Whatever game Uncle Sam is up to play, join the team led by him;
Always shore up the green back, white face and purple heart;
Remember: information is always might, whereas power is always right;
Only Yankees can set fires, while you are never allowed to light a candle;
Subject all your speech acts to AmEnglish syntax, including your local slangs;
Be accommodating to any investments from Wall Street;
It is imperative to baptise your souls in the currents of freedom & democracy;
Never try to come close to the super boss like soviets, japs or chinamen…





Dialectics about Hell & Heaven



Depending who you really are

Not what you have actually done

While pursuing your next dream

Be it American or Chinese:



If you are a tourist of some kind

Hell is as accommodating as heaven

But if you are a permanent resident

Heaven can be as torturing as hell





Getting Along: A Bilingualcultural Poem



In Chinese, 朋友,恋人,& 爱人 are all

12-stroked characters, just as their counter-

Parts friend, couple & spouse are 6-lettered

Words in the imperial vocabulary of English



Though they are all underlined with human



Love and loyalty, the former entails twice

As much input or effort of the heart

As the latter to maintain a disparately

Similar humane relationship as a speech act





Like Onion



No innerself really changes

In time or space, except



The masks becoming worn out

& peeling off one after another





Nice to See You



Means nothing before you are

Greeted for a second time



Hours, days, months, or even years

Later on a hummingbird-like spot





Teenaging in the Country



The sun shines brightly on everyone

Running around during the daytime



But the moon always follows me alone

When I sneak with wind into darkness





Not for Sale



He had never managed to find a book publisher, but

Right before his demise, he had all his manuscripts

Piled on a boulder beside a flowering pine tree

On a hilltop, knowing the mist would edit them into



A complete volume, a gust of wind would turn to

The page of his best, a flock of migratory birds would

Recite it aloud against rising sun as their chanting

Echoes long along the summer stream until the whole



Mountain range is to remember it by heart







Visa Officer Might Have This to Say

(On the basis of the 10 top words of 2020 newly selected by Collins Dictionary.)



Issued by a country locked down, your passport

Is simply invalid, though it makes everything clear



About you as a key worker, about your travel plan

Even about your TicToking activities; perhaps



From the furloughed generation of earthlings? You

Came with Megxit, you saw mukbang, & you are waiting



For the human species to self-isolate in the cyperspace

Including Laozi, Shakespeare, Einstein, each & every one



Socially distanced from Gaxyland, where you wish to

See what is beauty, good, & truth beyond the borders



Yet you are totally a mistake in this un-traveling season

Like God, like language, like coronavirus itself







Tunneling Effect



Like a quantum

Let my spiritrons penetrate the high wall

Of your heart, as well as that of another

Parallel universe, not just to see the secrets

There but to be one of them





Macrospiritualism



As my heart beats with the rhythm of history

My mind expands beyond the borders of



The cosmos and my body decomposes into

Dust as tiny as this earth.



What is i if not

The singularity?







Reason



Your cat gazes at the limbo, for which

You have been arguing for the past

Week before reaching the conclusion



You kept turning to her to share your

Thinking in delight. She enjoys sniffing

At your premise and syllogism



As you stretch your train of thought

Into rationalization. In your bloated presence

She searches your scattered feelings with its



Soft whiskers, & starts licking your face. Then

She stalks behind the shadow of your lost

Feel, sneaking into the basement, where you



Know she is playing with your calmness

As if trying to leave your mind alone, where

She lies down in free meditation about



How to get as far away

As any other cat distancing herself far

Beyond your heartmosphere




2020, 9, 21 [Monday]



The Year of Double Twenty



Turns out high time for all to stand still, as

I stay at home every day, trying to find

How to hold my stream of consciousness



& a ship floats around beyond the harbor

Anchoring itself among sharks and whales

Swimming against dark blue undercurrents



There is also a fully loaded truck parked

By the roadside, like an old thought lost

In a heavy traffic held up long at twilight



& airplanes perching amidst the trees. There is

An unmasked woman in the adjacent house

Siting motionlessly, as if pondering whether



To reset her clock, like a lonely traveler

Hesitating which road to take, or God Him-

Self pausing to reset Earth on a new orbit





Connotations of the Chinese Character 人/Human



Since I am a direct descendant of Homo Erectus, let me

Stand straight as a 人/human , rather than kneel down



When two humans walk side by side, why to coerce one

Into obeying the other like a slave fated to 从/follow?



Since three humans can live together, do we really need

A leader or ruler on top of us all as a 众/group?



Born with all the freedom granted to a human

Why keep me within high walls like a prisoner/囚?





I vs 我: Another Bilinguacultural Poem



The first person singular pronoun, or this very

Writing subject in English is I , an only-letter

Word, standing straight like a pole, always

Capitalized, but in Chinese, it is written with

Lucky seven strokes as 我 , with at least 108

Variations, all of which can be the object case

At the same time.

Originally, it’s formed from

The character 找, meaning ‘pursuing’, with one

Stroke added on the top, which may well stand for

Anything you would like to have, such as money

Power, fame, sex, food, or nothing if you prove

Yourself to be a Buddhist practitioner inside out





The Unspeakable Spoken Out: for Qi Hong



After a deep deep breath

Out of the back back yard

Of my heart, I blow each &

Every filament of thought of you

(Not unlike Li Shangyin’s silk worm)

Stained with my spiritrons high

& higher up into the mid-

Summer wind

In which to dance

The wildest dance, to the freest tune of

The blue sky, as it sweeps over an

Entire forest without leaving

A single fragment of shadow





Who knows it will reach you in the heart of

Your world, embracing you fully in the most

Tender moment of night, caressing your whole

Being inside out with its finest numerous

Fingers. All invisible, all un-hearable





Retiring



During my long swim across the straight

My body has totally exhausted, bruises all

Over, rotten from head to toe, ready to

Dissolve among cutting waves of night, but



My soul has survived as it finally comes

Ashore, naked like a lost migrating bird

Pecking at its own shadow on the beach, not

Knowing how

To fly with a pair of featherless wings





Standing Still for Survival



Long long before long ago, Earth

Was originally set within a koru



Unfurling at every antlike moment

Directly towards the sun, until

Now it is too overloaded

With evil spirits & viruses



To continue revolution as it

Tries to return to itself





Yuan’s Funeral



At this end: his funeral is simply unneeded

Since he had no friend, nor did any women

Really love him (except his mother?), his

Children will in no time forget his features

Just as his few readers his poetry. Definitely

He came, he aged, & he vanished, always in

Silence, with obscurity, along oblivion. Yet



At the other end: his soul is receiving

A warmest welcome as the party celebrates

His gracious escape from body-earth to

Join all the high-minded or upper-spirited

Among shadowless lights & mindful music

His protobeing sits high up there, talking &

Laughing with immortal nobles in Gaxyland





Englese: A Sonnet in Found Chinglish Sayings

You really know English? Know is know, noknow is noknow.

Every student should good good study, day day up.

You have seed. I will give you some color to see see.

You and me, we two who and who?

They are no three no four people.

You ask me, me ask who?

It is always people mountain people see there.



If you want money, I have no; if you want life, I have one!

Doing things should not horse horse tiger tiger!

Dragon born dragon, chicken born chicken, mouse'son can make hole!

I give you face you don't wanna face, you lose your face, I turn my face

You should open the door see mountain.

He has one leg with somebody, and she also has one leg with somebody.

Please take care of pubic sanitation!





Tips/Idiosyncracies: A Metasonnet



Experience is the best riches for any writing subject

Bow to no masters and avoid any mfa seminars

Focus on language, thought, feeling & leave stories to others

Take up your pen only when inspired enough to do

Just scribble down whatever bursts out of your heart

Use the –ing form for the title to capture the moment

Change the line to keep up with the beat of your inner heart

Make an ‘eye’ in each poem & shorten it to less than 25 lines

Keep revising or rewriting in the process of precipitation

Try to write variations on the same title or subject matter

Make blanket-submissions like a programmed robot

Ignore any editorial ignorance, rejections or rudeness

That’s how poems can be authored, even really good ones

That’s how I have become a poetry author, even a good one





Chinese



Is just one of the many settlements in English



Much smaller than Latin, French, Yiddish, even Algonquian

But what it encodes, like the worshipping of power



Guanxi, mianzi, the lack of interest in equality, freedom, or

The rule of law, social justice, religion, as well as the upholding

Of the secular & the very fleshly, keeps gaining popularity



Among all speakers of the language, touching every

Soul, polluting each context like Californian forest fire. True



The Chinese characters, with their elusive intonations

Can never occupy the smallest island, but they are posing

The greatest threat because the vivid ideograms

Have a ready appeal to the human body & mind



As they both keep falling, & falling further




2020, 8, 22 [Saturday]



Within, With & In



Like one layer after another of

An onion that can be peeled from outside

There’s always one story after another hidden

Within the story, one dream after another

Within the dream, one truth after another

Within the truth, & one universe after another

Within the universe, each as sharp to the eye

Just as to the mind







Feathering



Many a soul is feathered

With hope to fly from an enclosed space

Darkened to light at the very moment

When twilight engulfs all shapes

Wrapped thickly by uncertainties



But my body is winged with words

Among which my soul will never get lost

Even in an inner butterfly effect

As I flap my wings against darkness





Long



Some say the only human construction on earth

Visible from the moon is the Long Wall, while

Others claim art is long, but longer

Than the borderline of the cosmos & even

More so than time or space per se is the radius

Of a thought held at the tongue tip





Close to Me



Is surely my soulmate, but even

Closer is my own spirit, & the



Very closest is my other self

Living in a parallel gaxyland







Encountering



When two humans crash into each other

They fall deeply in either love or hatred



When two freight trains clash head on

They are both derailed in destructions



When two clouds (or civilisations)

Collide, they become assimilated (?)







Traffic Lights



As human civilisation keeps driving forward

We often forget to stop at the red light, or

Just proceed with caution at yellow



But now we are all made to stand still, as if

Feeling at loss about what to do when

A black light is blinking among viruses





Same wording: English Spelling vs Chinese Syntax



钱是没有问题Money is having no problem



问题是没有钱Problem is having no money



有钱是没问题 Having money is no problem



没有钱是问题Having no money is problem



问题是钱没有Problem is having no money



钱没有是问题 Having no money is problem







Were I Not One of Homo Sapiens



I would prefer to be a tree

Standing alone yet firmly all my life

Enjoying plenty of sunshine, flirting

With each bird dropping by, remaining

Straight, uplifting & in deep meditation

As numerous animals come and go with

Summer storms or ice ages, since I can live

A far longer life, almost immortal

With a much higher heart



Or I might as well have been a wolf, lower-

Bodied & lower-minded, but never

Telling lies, eating my fellow wolfs alive

Trying to ruin the whole earth, or

Dreaming about tomorrow



Alas, I am a bat-like mammal, spreading

Viruses viciously while flying blindly





Insomnia Imaginings



1/

Diving, diving through the darkness of tonight

I am trying to reach tomorrow on the other side



2/



A breeze has just blown itself away

Tracelessly, but from the distant copse

I hear the summer leaves gurgling



(Like my little sweetheart) & gurgling



Over the sound waves, my inner boat

Sails forward as if driven by the wind

To the shore beyond the horizon of hope



3/



Walking around the heart of twilight

I found myself like a long lost key

Without knowing which door

To open for the night



4/



Caged within the grove, the song

Of an unknown bird flaps its wings

Hard against freedom, its feathers

Drifting around in midair, like a light

Bomb exploded above the treetops



Falling down on this line of poetry

Where music notes keep dancing

At the heart of komorebi









Tomorrow, Church



At the heart of my second hometown

Stands a private church I’ve built for myself

Where I frequent not just to say my prayers

But to sing my psalms, make confessions &

Try to convert my secular being preoccupied

With fears, regrets, sorrows, jealousies

Worries, despondence, shame and hatred, all

Into a hyper being full of Buddhist wisdom.



While half

Of me lives down here within this mission of

Poetry, the other half keeps diving through

Darkness to morrow, the other side of night









The Only Future Concern



When I am gone with a cloud

Shall I leave my soul behind?



If so,

Who is to take care of it?





On Death



Death is not a penalty on your physical body

Rather, it is a reward to your spiritual being



Death is not the end of all your pasts

But the start towards your other future



Death is a stone thrown into the pond of your

World, where it serves to raise its water level



Death is an admittance to a party full of joy

Which will never disperse in the light spot



Death is the most enjoyable moment of truth

When you can get all the answers confirmed



Death is the account with the highest rate

Where you redeem all your investments



Death offers you the best chance to live again

While others may have died once and for all





So What?



So, I am not young or strong

Let alone handsome or sexy. So what?



But still I got a human body

With every human right



So, I do not have a car or home

Let alone fame or power. So what?



But still I have plenty of sunlight

Besides a true human heart



So, I have never had any close friends

Let alone a woman’s true love. So what?

But still I’ve had all my mother’s care

Which I can doubly return to the world










2020,7,10 [friday]



The Third Ear



With this gaxy ear, one can clearly hear

The gurgling passion circulating wildly

Within your veins, the whims bubbling

On the bog of her consciousness, the heart

Beat of a new black hole, the whispers

From tri-colored tulips in a secret garden

The melody of a muted peak among Rocky

Mountains, the rhythms of fresh sprouts

Shooting from the spring soil, the laughter of

A distant streamlet from glaciers, the calls of

A blue whale jumping out of the heart of

The Pacific, the songs of the autumn sunlight

Glimmering at a cloud’s edge, the chore of

A whole universe parallel to our own, yes



Indeed, in the depth of darkness, among

Fragmented silences, from pink noises

Simply beyond human hearing, I can hear

Any & all such sounds, only if I want to





The Biggest Happiest Surprise



In life is no other than tomorrow

As is preordained with myriad possibilities, including

Such as an unexpected piece of good news from a certain

Source, or a certain piece of good news from

An unexpected source or, rather, the very likelihood

Of the next few moments when you feel happy about this:

As long as you manage to get up again, there’ll surely

Be one good peace of news after another waiting for you





No Road Is Straight



Otherwise, human history would not

Have been so full of turns, nor would



The human heart have been so twisted

More important, the earth would never



Have been so tied like the Gordian knot

(To be cut with Alexandre’s sword again?)





Small



What a naked eye can see

Can be so small –

A speck of dust wrapped with

Human wantonness and ignorance

Refusing to vanish, but hung close

To mid-air at this antlike moment

(Like the earth in the cosmos)

No creatures would

Notice it, except some perception

Entangling with it afar

In an infinitesimal corner of

The human mind, each being

A planet in its own right





Between Time & Space



As time progresses infinitely

In space, & space expands

Infinitely in time, anything

Everything is becoming possible

As a particle of infinity while new

Newer & newest universes are

Being born one after another

Like hope, like thought

Like tomorrow, each of such

Finity contributing to infinity





Learning



All my life I have been learning

Just one thing:

To smile to death



From my first cry to my last smile

Any other lesson is but a selective

Course on emotional management





Again, Looking Forward



I am biting time in darkness

I am biting darkness in time, silently



Counting the stars high above the double-

Glazed skylight of my mind, waiting

For the day to break again with just another

Happy surprise popping up on the small screen

Such as a greeting from my lost first love

An acceptance email from a magazine editor

A report about the vaccine against the virus

A green color twinkling across American markets

A quiet morning on the Indian-Pakistan

Frontline, all among other little exciting

Possibilities while



Darkness is biting me in time, &

Time biting me in darkness, silently







The Fish Framed within the Photo



Keeps wondering whether

To return to the heart of

The Pacific, or to swim

To the streamlet flowing

In the viewer’s mind



Via the tears from

A smiling or crying face





What’s Fundamentally Wrong



With our race?

So mean, so brutal, so destructive

To one another

To all other species

Even to our selves & gods alike

As if we does not seem to deserve

This privileged home-planet, where



(Individually, they can be civilised, yet

Collectively, they are all most evil beasts)



Let me launch my soul like a spiritron rocket

Into the deepest depth of the cosmos

To find an answer, be it ever so far-fetched





Quest in Question



Every soul is in search of something. So

What are you pursuing in particular?

A first-rate education, a good job, a dream house

A short cut to success, a prosperous career

A special map, a gold mine, an effective recipe

A magic gadget, a super talent, a passport

A secret, a key, a harbor, a connection, a savior

A nest for your heart, a soulmate, an ideal or



The truth, the elixir, the cure, the Way

The Dao, the meaning of life (if any at all)

The peace of mind, the human rights or



Freedom, equality, dignity, longevity

Health, wealth, fame, friendship, love

Sex, power, honor, knowledge, wisdom

Good, beauty, Heaven, God or happiness per se...?



While this list may go on forever amongst all

Such desirable things, tangible or otherwise

I have nothing to look for, except another breath

Of air to inhale, in this very antlike moment, all

The love from this universe, then to exhale

All my gratitude out of my inner being





Inner Climate



Even if winter never retreats from here

There’s still as much spring beauty

Summer good & autumn

Truth as I would love to enjoy

In the backyard of my heart; or



If there is only spring all the time

If it is always winter here, these

Two climate conditions are equally

Boring (& impossible) - the richness of

Life comes from the four seasons changing

Constantly & alternatively throughout the year.





Politics of Pronouns



Even if you is her

Only if I are you

As if they is he

If it am I



If only we were us

If





Personal Poetry Points (july10, 10:40-45 am)



Instead of tea, coffee, wine, or even water sometimes, I drink poetry only.



I can go well without anything, including clothing or sheltering, but not without poetry.



I’d rather remain an unknown author of great poetry than become a great author of unknown poetry.



If my poetry were to win a wide appreciative readership posthumously as in the case of John Keats or Emily Dickinson, I would, just as I could, readily die a happy death now.



Thursday, 20 March 2025

Review on DETACHING just published

magazine: Toasted Cheese

reviewer: Shelley Carpenter (TC's Reviews Editor)

title: DETACHING by Yuan Changming

date: march 1st, 2025

link: https://tclj.toasted-cheese.com/tag/candle-ends/


Friday, 7 February 2025

Yuan's debut short story collection FLASHBACKS just released

title: Flashbacks: a collection of hyperrealistic naratives 

author: yuan changming

publisher: Goldfish Press (seattle)

release date: feburary 6, 2025

link: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/1950276325?dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.hvJr9SRvH0yscc17wJ4O-ucqk3LZcQdpZXpCke4epDpCu8pNXa252X3XNMWIlvHA42PwLkQuoQy3Tu9z8Ln-ElktNHWQJwYoCJJ60n5zltt7ePy_rMV5pmiH_Ae1do8NI3wtIKiWbRzQYkE6Xb7A7ca4aqy5I74WUYeplL_1Mx73GXqZTHyuJl8J_8lwfIfi_GXtYFtRr0TJ6io8CjxCIJFK2xLO1Da9INpg1UQ8KrQ.-ITZa_0pFzkEBaSQFTnWGWlAwBgwY8qIRPTnmN9_5Aw&dib_tag=se&qid=1738951005&refinements=p_27%3Ayuan+changming&s=books&sr=1-23&xpid=y2hDx-GvT0QcY&asin=1950276325&revisionId=&format=4&depth=1

note: Included in this debut colletion are 40 short stories I have written since early 2022. While about thirty of them have already been published individually in print or online, "emotional curiosity" was twice nominated for the 2024 pushcart prize, "eloping to zhuhai" for the 2025 pushcart and "fengshui" for the Best of the Net for 2023. 

Wednesday, 5 February 2025

Yuan's SiLver Romance THE TUNER just released

title: THE TUNER: 16 most moreish days in a life time (a 'silver romance'*)

author: yuan changming 

publisher: Alien Buddha Press

release date: feb. 5, 2025

links:: amazon.com/TUNER-most-moreish-days-lifetime/dp/B0DSCC6NRH

alienbuddhapress.wordpress.com/2025/02/05/spotlight-the-tuner-16-most-moreish-days-in-a-lifetime-by-yuan-changming/

*author's note: as a subgenre of contemporary romance, a 'sivler romance' focuses on sexual love among retirees or senior citizens. as all boomers are becoming more and more advanced in age, are they still in need, and capable, of sexual love, even passionate about it? surely, they are, since they can remain as young as they feel!

Tuesday, 24 December 2024

[archived poems by yuan: 2020-1©]





2020, 6, 12 [Friday]



Towards Tomorrow



While most still linger along in twilight

Some are hopping among fires of gun

Others are dying of hunger, & still others

Are crying voicelessly over pain and loss



All in the heart of darkness stretched by tonight



But once the sun rises among the glows of

Tomorrow, we’ll start flapping against a new world

So gaxy we can fly high together with angels

Each with wings feathered with hope & happiness





More Than a Trance



Given the whole earth drifting around

Like a speck of dust in the universe, where

Can I settle my soul among empty spaces?



Newly breaking out from its cocoon, it is

A butterfly flying to a starry cluster, unable

To find a place to perch until it gets lost



Like a human message sent to the opposite

Sideline of the cosmos, an other speck of dust

In an other singularity-spiritron, ever expanding





One Last Smile



With my smiles, I have faced myriad realities

For example, I smiled (bitterly) at the loss of

My first love, as well as at the one thousand &

First rejection from a poetry editor on line

In addition to as many insults and injuries

As acceptances or achievements



Now, with only one smile left, I hesitate: (what)

Should I reserve it for - the way my soul

Breaks out from my body like a butterfly, or

The new birth of the entire human world?





Heartfelt Confusion



More than once in the depth of

Darkness have I strongly felt

The whole earth shaking

But only to realise the next day



There was no earthquake at all



Perhaps, it’s because my deformed heart

Beat hard like a seismic vibrations, or

Rather, I am the only one lying at night

Who happened to feel the quack?





Strike



While the iron

Is hot. Cheers

While we have

Wine to drink

Speak out aloud

While our throats

Are not cut yet

Keep eyes open while

The butterfly passes

In sight. Wait

While the best

Is yet to come

Water the flower

While it is still

Fresh & tender

Reserve a seat

Up in heaven

While the dream

Continues. Take

The Way, & feel

Happy while

Our hearts beat

With hope





Flocci Volitantes



Drifting like broken shadows



Are the floaters illusionary

Fragments of last night

Or shredded shadows

Of my own protobeing?



How often am I tempted

To catch one of them

With my inner hands!





Tree, the Tree



Standing firm

Always on the same spot

(In history as by a street)



Trying to pose a perfect

Seasonal posture

(In the shape of wind)



Not for a colorful photo

But for the naked eyes

(Of the beholder?)





All That Glitters



Is not just gold, but also the teeth chewing

The bitterness of life at twilight; the bones



Excavated from a lost civilisation; the roof

Tiles glazed with the rain of last night; &



The rock standing firm in the gurgling stream

The broken mirror in the debris of history; &



The disk hung like a scarecrow in the garden

The wings of a raven flying in the storm; &



The coal close to a furnace; the forehead

Of my late father in my dream; as well



As the scales of a fish jumping out of water

Against the starlight; the glacier protruding



From an unknown peak among Rocky Mountains

Or, the eye looking beyond the darkness of tonight







Do You See



A couple of flowers near the fence (between

Hope & spring) are holding their heads

Higher as if to look forward to tomorrow?





All the Way Towards Another Tomorrow



Since yester twilight

Along the borderline of tonight

With fits of thirst & hunger

Among storms of pain

Between interludes of insomnia

Near despair & desperation



Amidst the nightmare

At the depth of darkness

Through one tiny antlike moment

After another…

Until awakening

To the first ray of dawn



Sonnet to Tomorrow



Since yester twilight

Along the borderline of tonight

With fits of thirst & hunger

Among storms of pain

Under attacks of viruses

Between interludes of insomnia

Beyond both hope & expectation



At the depth of darkness

Amidst the nightmare

Through one tiny antlike moment

After another…

Against deadly despair

Until awakening

To the first ray of dawn


Imagining Tomorrow: A Free Sonnet



The rising sun is sure to be the same

As yesterday, but the morning glows

Will be entirely different

As each cloud takes a fresh shape

Like a brocade blown from heaven



Solid and sustainable, such similes

Have built a high-arched bridge

Connecting the darkest moments of

The mid-night, closely & directly

With the sunlight of tomorrow



Upon wakening, the moment I get up

I find myself crossing the bridge right

From dark to light: at one end is

Hope; at the other, a brand new life





A Whole Patch of Sky



Is bending down to listen

To the fragrant descant of



The first sprout from

My wakened protobeing

As it starts to sing

With its tenderest voice

Blooming like a flower





Haunted: A Vision of Xmas Eve



Right beside the snowy road

Lies a night-filled baby crow

Flapping its wounded wings

Hard against his loud laughter

As Santa drives his sleigh by





Chinese Legend Has It



That to make the magic sword

Moxie jumps into the furnace

To melt the hardest ore –



Let me burn in the same cauldron

With all the alphabetic letters

To become the worthiest wordsmith







Of Having



Beyond the fence of my heart I have

Grown an unnamed tree, so gaxy

So leafy even a single star cannot

Fall down through, but like a big

Nest, birds of all kinds of feathers

Come to perch during each storm












2020, 5, 14 [Thursday]



Inner Sailing



From this badly broken sailboat of mine

I have to keep pumping out water

With an equally leaking bucket in hands

To avoid sinking or overturning

While my soul tries fiercely to catch the monsoon

To bring my protobeing closer to the shore



That’s how I manage to navigate the narrows

Through stormy feels

Among surging consciousnesses





The Hardest Art



The art of vacating is the hardest (&

The highest) to master: with so many

Feels & ideas from the inside, & so much more

Information, misinformation or disinformation

From the outside that keep invading my inner territories

Like the air occupying each empty space, like the water

Filling in each dark crevice, there is no way, no hope of

Vacating the smallest corner of my selfhood of all at once

Except perhaps during a quasi senior moment, when I

Stop awhile, forgetting to remember anything or nothing



Nevertheless, let me try to throw out one thing at a time

Obvious garbage first, then those unused for a year already



Alas, even in the depth of deepest meditation, a whim may

Pop up, looming along the horizon as if to remind me

The true art of vacating is

The very highest (& hardest) to master





Mindful Moment

No intruding of any kind

No trespassing into the scene

Except the exit of last sound, last image

From this inner stage. No apparition of

A single feel or memory, as if

In an intended senior moment indefinitely

Stretched, when my inner being dissolves fully

Into the outbeing.

Now the sky is free of clouds as

My sense of selfhood keeps growing, bit by bit

Slowly but surely, until I become the universe &

The universe becomes me







Monday Prayer



You have already given me too much



Oh, just a little bit less, Lord!

The air I breathe indefinitely

The trees I see every day

The water flowing without stop

The hills looming constantly beyond the sea



Even a single ray of morning glow would be

Enough to illuminate my benighted soul





Horror Vacui (Or Plenism)



Even in this very moment

My mind is full

Of struggling presences



Such is

Always the case:

The moment its door opens

It is infused with whims & wishes



I stop to squeeze out

Each bubbling perception

But it always returns in a deformed form

To occupy the vacated room

Which has held part of me



You long to become mindful

Of a spiritual vacuum

Yet it never allows for

The briefest moment of emptiness







Always Keep a Distance



Away, just as far away as possible

From the hippopotamus

From the cassowary

From the wolverine

From the Tasmania devil

From the sun bear

From the saltwater crocodile

From the black mamba

From the wild boar

From any other animal

That looms in a similar human shape each, &



You will be socially free

From fear of a ferocious attack

From individuality as from covid-19





Courting Confession



Neither am I handsome

Tall

Strong enough

Nor do I have so much money

Talent, or

Power

To attract you

To make you happy

To win you over

To become my living partner

The only thing I have is my word: I promise

To try my utmost until my ultimate moment



Will you marry me next life?





Jingwei Filling the Eastern Sea: Another East Idiom



& then, as in Zhuanzi’s allegory about Kun

The enormous fish that has become Peng

A vast bird flying as high as the ninth sky

You, the very first princess from ancient Asia

Who transformed yourself into a little crow

Known as Spirit-Guardian (of whom?)

Has never stopped carrying a pebble or twig

Afar from the Western Hills

To fill up the sea even until today



Now the sea is still far from safe

For your stupid & chick-hearted descendants

But following behind your thickening shadow

Are countless birds, each red-footed

White-backed, with a patterned head

& a yellowish heart like yours

All flying in the same flock as if continuing

To fill in the same old sea





Towards the Truth



Truth is the private property of the privileged

Truth is a dream for the awakened to realise



Truth is a model dressed up carefully by time

Truth is a shadow within the cave of shadows



Truth is as good as beautiful (?)



Truth is a mirror broken into myriad pieces

Truth is a whole fact lost amid fragments of fiction



Truth is just another mask on the face of history

Truth is wrapped with numerous shrouds of lies



Truth is a tomb yet to be robbed?





The Blind Feels the Elephant: An East Idiom Reinterpreted



Here’s the elephant,

Said Rajah’s servant to one blind

Man, showing him its head. To another, its ears; &

To the third, its trunk, & the tusk, the foot, back, tail &

Tuft in turn. Then, Rajah asked each to describe what

An elephant is. It’s like a pot, answers the one presented

With the head. No. It’s like a winnow, the one who has

Studied its ears. In fact, it’s a ploughshare, the tusk-man

Claims. You are all wrong. It’s a plough per se, insisted

The trunk-man.



Add all your descriptions together, says

Rajah finally, & you can perhaps get the whole picture!

Or can we?





Know Thy Crow

Crows everywhere is as black as one another. –Chinese Proverb



Like the shadow of your shadow

The crow stalking constantly behind you is

No other than the soul of your other self

Visiting you from a quasi parallel universe



Winged with the feathers of benighted spirits

It has a deep darkness-filled throat, trying

To summon every bit of your inner being

In the name of Raum or Jingwei



Know My Crow

Crows everywhere is as black as one another. –Chinese Proverb



Like the shadow of my shadow

Is the crow stalking constantly behind me

No other than the soul of your other self

Visiting me from a quasi parallel universe?



Winged with the feathers of benighted spirits

Throated with nightly darkness, it caws aloud

As if to summon every bit of my inner being

In the name of Raum or Jingwei







The Gaxy Eye



Wedged between your left and right brain

Deep in the heart of your tiny pineal body is

Your third eye, so gaxy it will lead you

Right through the gateway towards



Heaven (or hell), where all the 90%

Of your genes and powers are locked

Degrading as you separate farther away

From nature, in a preprogramed magafile





One Word after Another



Out from myriads. Always

In some sequence. Depending

On the diction, they can

Become a time bomb

Placed deep in print or online



One word after another

Some remember them

As a powerful quote, but

Others forget them just

As a one-time speech act



One word after another

I treat them each like

A hard-delivered baby, or

More, like each remaining day





My Favourite Watch



A second-hand Gucci

My wife bought it for me for $2.99. I seldom

(Need to) wear it, but when I do, I always

Feel happy, even proud, not because it keeps

Good time like a brand new Hallucination, but

Because it is motivated by my own pulse



Though my heart beats only 45 times per minute

& with a deformed muscle, will soon stop beating

Completely, the watch has gathered more

Energy from my pulse movements than needed

To continue moving long after my manuscripts

Decompose with my body







Forest



Every single one is earthbound

None rooted in a human artifact



Into & out from it, you will refill all

Your innerbeing with the freshest air



Like a tree, you may never change

Your preordained position, your distance



From the nearest city. Nor can you

Add an extra ring around your heart



But you can share its shape & posture

Even its height in this moment, standing still



As if in deep meditation about the sunlight

About the bushes, as about the whole season





You Never Know



Somewhere

At the other

End of the line

An algorithm (called Medusa)

Is computing, editing day & night

Your scattered presences

Into one digital text

While you are day dreaming

About how to maintain

Your free will, your very selfness












2020, 4, 20 [Monday]



Were I Ever Absent



All human d stances

Would be d_ stances

Were I absent

Noth ng

Could hold together even as a word

Were I absent

Ex stence

Would break right after an ex

Were I absent

L fe

Might turn out no more than a typo

Were I absent

T me

Would stop moving towards me

Were I absent

H story

Would become a h(ushed ?) story





Even Appendix



Let alone caecum, may have

Survived to

Serve a

Suitable end

As they often say

To hold

To host bacteria

For the health of

The intestines

Both large &

Small, or

Perhaps not?





Sex(act)uality Redefined



This act of human intercourse is or is not

(Act u ally)

The imposition of the public will of a whole species to survive

Upon the private impulse of two individuals

Seeking bodily ecstasy





Speech Acts: Another Lesson in Chinese Characters



说 /shuo/: to say is to make an exchange in words

语 /yu/: language is defined in terms of what I say

课 /ke/: a lesson should be learned by talking about the result

谎 /huang/: to lie is to throw a remark from the wasteland

论 /lun/: to argue means to speak in a logic way

议 /yi/: discussions are utterances about isms

读 /du/: reading entails commenting on what’s sold

记 /ji/: to memorize is to talk to oneself

诺 /nuo/: promising means talking against many an if



Fire Setting: Another Lesson in Chinese Characters



灶 /zao/: an oven is built by setting a fire beside a pile of earth

灿 /can/: splendid is the view of a fire sweeping over a mountain

烟 /yan/: smoke originates as a cause flickering like a spark

烦 /fan/: frustration occurs when a fire burns a page

烧 /shao/: to burn something is to set a fire high on it

炒 /chao/: to fry is to use little fire

烙 /lao/: to iron is to burn each and every spot

炉 /lu/: a stove is the fire burning in a household

炮 /pao/: a cannon is a fire wrapped tight



Water-Filled: Another Lesson in Chinese Characters



沙 /sha/: sand is something holding little water

河 /he/: a river has water allowing everything possible

洗 /xi/: to wash is to put something into water first

波 /bo/: waves surge when water flows like skin

注 /zhu/: to focus is to be the master of water

源 /yuan/: a wellspring is the original water

泪 /lei/: tears are water seeping from the eyes

洒 /sa/: to spread is to throw water into the west

演 /yan/: a performance is a show in respect for water

酒 /jiu/: wine is water fully matured





Wording



Add a sexy s to the word word

You get a magic sword



Better to add a loving l to the same word

You can win a whole world, but



If you scramble the letters of the word

You will drown yourself in a crowd







The Importance of a Missing Letter



See less Watermelons On Sale

Try Our New Anus Steak Burger

Drive Thru Loaded Bowel: $3.99

Cuntry Inn Closed

15 Best Things about Our Pubic Schools







Politically Incorrect Spelling



Sweet Pee

No Regerts

Welcome Back, Hope You Had a Good Brake

Have a Family Escape Plane

Violators Will Be Towed & Find $50

I love my whore family

Now hiring smiling feces





Paronyming



While paronym has little to do with paronom

You might spell the word alternately or alternatively

When you try to distinguish collision from collusion or

Make a difference between prolepsis and proslepsis



As affect is a verb that can have an effect

So accept is a verb that can ac…t except during

Deprecating or defecating

Your utmost instead of upmost



Just exercise a conjugation or

Excise a conjecture, & you could go on

Playing the game continuously or contiguously

In poetics as in politics

Waring against Covid-19 (& the Like)



As the spectre keeps drifting above our heads

We are haunted by the death tolls everywhere



Harder than before, but never hear the whistling

Blown in a relay from continent to continent





All of a Sudden



(Impulsive or deliberate)

You stop

You turn

You derail

In this moment of a yard time



As if for a change

As if for relaxation

As if for fun

But only to find your soul

Chained even deeper & tighter







Provincial Proverbs (2): Not All



That glitters is gold, they say. Not all

That comes true is the dream. Not all

That makes one happy is the feel. Not all

That grows is a seed. Not all



That starts a prairie fire is a spark. Not all

That pleases the ear is music. Not all

That blooms into spring is a flower. Not all

That dies out is a dark cloud. Not all



That flies high is the eagle. Not all

That speaks is voice. Not all

That is saved can earn interest. However



As a kahuna might say:

All that has passed is past, & all

That is present is in this moment only





Art Is Liberative



Dancing madly among

Words

Sounds or

Pictures



They transform themselves into faeries

Collecting nectar after nectar

Deep from the human heart



To make

Beauty of beauty

From truth of truth

To good of good





The Headline: a Contemporary Creation List

In this info-age, every posting is a new post of news.



Day one: Wall Street Crash

Day two: Wall Street Harsh

Day three: Wall Street Chars



Day four: Wall Street Cash

Day five: Wall Street Rash

Day six: Wall Street Ash



Day seven: Blackout for e.rest







e.Cocoon



Simply too much information

Disinformation

Misinformation

Sysinformation

To delete from my inbox

To empty from my recycle bin

To decocoon my overly informed selfhood



Oh, just for a single moment of truth offline





Of Mice vs Men: Steinbeck Solicited



Truth about men:

Mice are always mice

But men are sometimes not men



Trouble with mice:

We always kill them

But they (will?) never

Take revenge on us





True Heroes Today



Behind every headline



Are nurses & doctors

Combating

COV D-19



Right at the frontline




2020, 3, 19, [Thursday]



Playing erhu (Or Chinese Violin)



Four fingers pressing two fine strings

(As if to feel the pulse of sound per se) &

One thick lock of horsetail hair pulled or

Pushed in between

You can drive all ears

Far beyond the grassland. The clip-clops

Of a single horse running, swiftly & gracefully

Over boa’s skin, tightly stiffened over each mind





Wuhan, Jiayou/Add Oil (AO)!



All masks on, all hands washed clean, Wuhan, AO!

Stay home, stay away from the animal farm, Wuhan, AO!

Don’t fear quarantine, don’t fear Room 101, Wuhan, AO!

If you cannot flee from coronavirus, just say No to Big Brother, Wuhan, AO!



Watch death polls, watch the telescreens, Wuhan, AO!

Rise against infection, rise against Mr Jones, Wuhan, AO!

Be aware of human contact, be aware of Napoleon, Wuhan, AO!

If you cannot flee from coronavirus, just say No to Big Brother, Wuhan, AO!





Fight for fresh air, fight for freedom of speech, Wuhan, AO!

Stop choosing to eat wildlife, stop doublethinking, Wuhan, AO!

Return to Laozi’s Dao, return to harmony with nature, Wuhan, AO!

If you cannot flee from coronavirus, just say No to Big Brother, Wuhan, AO!



To hell with barbaric traditions, to hell with totalitarian rule, Wuhan, AO!

Recall your valiance, recall your first gunshot of modern China in 1911, Wuhan, AO!

Do away with rumours, do away with memory holes, Wuhan, AO!

If you cannot flee from coronavirus, just say No to Big Brother, Wuhan, AO!





At Li Wenliang’s Death



Your humanistic lungs have no more air to pump out

But your whistle-blowing is echoing afar

Like a whale’s call, far beyond a whole continent

Louder than all the songs ever sung on earth





Heart-Rooted: First Lesson in Spelling Semantics



There’s no heart

Where man or he is not followed by art

There’s no heart

That contains no ear at its centre, &

There’s no heart

That cannot hear t, as in tongue



While it may vary from earth to hater in an anagram

We Canadians just cannot help wondering

If it implies a rat eh? Tar eh? Or Art eh?





Past vs Present: A Sinnet Sonnet



Divided first in language || & life style; || divorced

From harmony || with nature; || developed

Into a new level || of being; || demanded by

The collective; || desired; || deformed; || deflated

Decentralised; || deprived of all rights; || defined

In terms || of quantum metaphysics; || determined

By an other way || of looking at || every dimension



Unfolding events…rolling stones…barking dogs

Sinking ships…rebuilding the station…dwelling

In two bodies…sighing…trying to get out…

Waiting for Godot…pointing towards…punning

Joining in the long march…celebrating…avoiding

Uprising…meditating…communicating in symbols

Organizing ourselves …to emulate God …or Nature





History Hit Heavy: A Sinnet Sonnet in Gerunds



Saying vs doing. Seeing &

Believing. Their talking

About change. Speeding up

Nothing but suffering. Your



Having been hurt. No crying

Over it. Loving your selfhood

More than your love. Knowing

The law of stupidity. Baiting



A mouse. Becoming bearish

From bullish. Migrating to

Asgardia. Bow-wowing. Her

Wording. Spreading from one to



Another wisely & widely. Do-

Ing this or that. Being so & so





Toddling



Weebling, wobbling

Come on, baby (God yells)

Wobbling, weebling

Keep going (Nature shouts)



We learn to walk once becoming erected

As we toddle along, tumbling alternatively into reason &

Feeling, like a rock rolling from a mountain slope

Bruised & aching, clacking dull in history. Now

Resting on level ground, grinning in fantastic foolishness







Fruit Eating



In the heart of juicy sweetness

Are there perforce some, or even more

Hard pits, at each biting



Unless it is

A new manmade species, such as

Seedless (or heartless) grapes & melons



Yeye Has No Hair



Yeah, Yeye has no hair, but he does carry

A whole Mediterranean Sea upon his head

Where many a Trojan horse transported, &

Countless fishermen have drowned to death



Contained by solid coastlines, it is filled with

Thought-islands, where Baba would often

Get chocked with salty water while learning

To swim from one to another; where people



Are divided into colored continents; where

Dead whales have fallen into new colonies of

Lives, while their calls keep echoing far

Beyond the new world; where young children



Like you can travel anytime to the pyramid

To find the hidden treasure buried deep there







Woman-Radical: Feminist Lesson/Tradition in Chinese Characters



妇 /fu/: lady is a woman who has overthrown a mountain



好 /hao/: wo man spelt as one word simply means good



妙 /miao/: young women supporting each other are always wonderful



嫁 /jia/: to marry a man is for a girl to have her own family



妖 /yao/: weird would be a woman if she goes broken



姣 /jiao/: handsome is a woman standing with her legs crossed



婢 /bi/: maid is a girl who is by nature humble



婵 /chan/: beautiful is she who remains single



娘 /niang/: mother is perforce a lady who is good and kind






Heart-Radical: Another Lesson in Chinese Characters



恩: /en/ favour is

a reliance on the heart



忌:/ji/ jealousy implies

there being one’s self only in the heart



悲:/bei/ sorrow comes

from the negation of the heart



惑:/huo/ confusion occurs

when there are too many an ‘or’ over the heart



感:/gan/ perception takes place

when an ax breaks something on the heart



忠:/zhong/ loyalty remains

as long as the heart is kept right at the center



恥:/chi/ shame is the feel

you get when your ear conflicts with your heart





Wishful Thinking



Oh, for at least ten million word incinerators!



To be built everywhere, anywhere

To run every moment, day & night

To burn up all the literary waste



From the human & nonhuman world alike!





M/F



To masturbate or to fuck

To masculinize or to feminize

To mock or to fake

To manipulate or to facilitate

To mother or to father

To move down or to fill in

That is the question:

Whether it’s more accurate to declare

My biophysical (or spiritual) identity by ticking

M/F in this tightly enclosed box, since I was born

With a willy, but have lost it in my mind. Hesitating

To pick my sexuality or humanity, I wonder

How it is relevant to male fantasy or female modernity?





Self-Worth



To give some add-on value

To your poor lifeworth, all you need to do

Is just to open an account with facebook

Youtube, tweeter, or better a blogsite

So as to extend your physical being far

Into the cyberspace by generating a few

Digitals; then, you will enjoy a longer

Life span, even a posthumous life

Do you have an online presence?





Beyond the Field Trip



Each petal sprayed to the air

Makes the hour more fickle



Ah, varieties of late spring in the country

Demise of dynamics

Fantasies of posthumous living, where

All the colors are thrown high into the sky

Splashing down among midsummer dreams








2020, 1, 24 [Friday]



What Makes America Great (Again?) Is



Neither the Bible or the Pilgrim’s Progress

Nor the Independence Declaration or the Articles of Confederation

Nor George Washington or Abraham Lincoln

Nor the Donkeys or the Elephants

Nor freedom or democracy

Nor our military hardware or super soldiers

Nor our advancements in science or technology

Nor our Greenbacks or Fed Reserve

Much less our Wall Street, Hollywood, Coco Cola

McDonald, Microsoft, Google, Michael Jackson

Broadway, Disneyland, or NBA…You name it

No, no, no,

None of them

Not even all of them combined either



Rather; it is nothing but



The little passenger pigeon that’s vanished into the sky, or

The helpless Indian baby that’s dying in his mom’s arms?





Destiny



On that early spring night

Hundreds of millions of

Spermatozoa ejaculating out

Of his little dick

(As hard as the apple he ate)

In an explosive thrust

(As if during the Big Bang)

Each struggled fiercely along a shortcut

Into her tuna taco

(Softer & smoother than Satan’s skin)

Among warmth, tenderness

Love, breath, ecstasy beside deaths



We are all descendants of the infinitesimal champion

Penetrating an equally infinitesimal egg





Light Magic Nine: Removing R from Abracadabra



Tender is the night, frenzy is the night

When all the luxuries of solitude are ready

For the mouse in hand or the body in sight

Just let your selfhood flow freely around

From the depth of heart to the mind’s height

Insomnia can be more of a joy than suffering

As long as you set your inner climate right

And allow your thought to sail its own course

Through Daoist pursuits all the way to light





Evil Possibilities



How much more evil can they

Possibly become, say, by developing faster

& more destructive nuclear missiles than

We can hope to intercept; by fabricating

& delivering so much more tangible goods

At a lower cost; by wrapping half of the population

With black chadors & forcing nine-year-old girls

To marry; by bowing to a nasty boy simply

Because he is the son of another dictator; by standing

Up to say no to our demand; by upholding

The broken flag of socialism right across

The Florida Straits; by using other than

Our Greenbacks in buying & selling their

Natural products? How much, just how much

More evil on earth will they probably become?





Quitting



Ever since my 12th grader son observed that

Like my mom, I would begin to talk about

Myself within fewer than three sentences

During any conversation, I have developed

A self-referent syndrome, always nervous &

Afraid to mention the first person pronoun

Either in subject or object case. This is not

Because I would appear too self-centred

Too self-interested, or too self-indulgent

But because the very thought could make me

Tremble in an overwhelming sense of guilt

Even in a short stanza like this. Is there

Any way to avoid my selfhood at all, or



How can I quit this self-indulgent hobby?





Echocardiography



Lying down on the bed. Wires stuck

All over my chest. I cannot move see it



With my own eyes, but my heart is

A colorful universe in its own right



I felt it beating peacefully with my breath

Expanding, contracting, as my selfhood is



Shrinking into another singular point among

Blood cells, each a microspace of time, where



I am the earth, the solar system, the milk way

A universe parallel to a quantum entangling



With each thought. I know I carry a whole cosmos

Right in my heart. Just as colorful as a caught clot





Three Strikes Law



Two failures in investment that make you capitulate

Two hours of sadness about the death of first love, or

The first loss of love; two rings of telephone calling

For immediate attention; two minutes of walk to

The bus stop to travel one way to desperation; two

Ticks of the second hand pushing your schedule deeper

Into the season; two minimetres of pink petals reaching

Out for the spring air; two syllables held long enough

In your mother tongue for a Munchian scream; two

Versions of the messages that have caused a bloody

Conflict; two apparitions of the spectre above the snowy

Landscape; two times of the same mistake that strikes law





Word-Hunting



Had I known all the words

For snow in Eskimo, I would

Catch a flake in much more

Terms of white color, soft feel

Pure taste, muted tone &

Cloud-like smell; I would

Not feel lost in the illusions

Of tranquility, or the disguise of

All that is ugly, dark, dirty

Messy; rather, I could perceive

Sharp hazards, even dangers

As each bit of the season melts slowly

Under the fluffy carpet. But I don’t



That’s why I can only walk into the dancing

Flakes, hopefully, to find just one more word

Which might be equivalent in English

Or Chinese, like hunting a pale rabbit

Deep in the heart of winter





Human Histoire



Hitting heavy in human history

Myriad bowing trees have all

Witnessed

Every drop of blood shed in the traffic



They may say nothing in the court of

Calendar, except perhaps nodding, or

Waving in front of a seasonal audience

But they will keep in the heart of their rings

Each & every human malice







e.Dictatorship



Isn’t it crazy, exactly like this

To stop to take out this e.gadget

& smuggle a guilty look even in the middle of

Driving straight into a bloody crash

Making an official speech to a huge audience

Attending a funeral service, wording

A Zen epiphany into a stanza, or cooking

A hot dish. Really crazy! Like this I am totally

Enslaved by this palm machine, whose

Very agitation calls for immediate

Attendance like a master yelling at his slave



Yes, my attention is dictated thus, 24 hours

A day, seven days a week. Every few minutes

At each ring, blink or vibration, always

Unexpectedly, I cannot wait to check

What pops up on the screen, even if it is no more than

A wechat image of a stranger, a recorded marketing

Message, or a truncated call by mistake, lol





Inter || Course



Come on baby! Come on

Push hard, just

A bit harder! Push deep

Just a bit deeper! Oh yeah

Oh, yeah! That’s it

All the way into my heart

I have not had

So much joy

For a long time. Oh yeah

How I enjoy it

A total ecstasy! Oh

How I wish to die

Of organism! Yeah



But I am never in love

With a man. Nor have

I ever fucked a half-boy

Except a real reader

Handsome or not



Now I got you right in my grasp

Oh, please, harder & deeper







My Mother’s Bedding Sets



Since my father died, my mother has often cried

In chilly privacy, over the fact that the only human

In this entire word, who loved her most dearly had left

Her alone forever. Each time sleeping between sad &

Cold sheets, she cannot help recalling how he used

To take out all her bedding sets on every sunny day

To sunbathe them, a habit that sometimes would drive

Her crazy when there was an unexpected shower



So, during my last sojourn in Jinzhou, I did something

Similar, even with her mattress, & exposed them

At every chance just to give her a smell of the sun

Or of my father, when she went to bed, all alone





Night Snow



In the wee hours of this morning, I noticed

A heavy snow falling as forecasted. With

The whole world feeling immaculate, I got up &

Stood in front of my window, just on this

Side of the glass, finding myself lost in the white way

All the ugly, dark, dirty, messy as well as hazards

Were covered equally, even the night itself had

Retreated from dreams, with noises muted, cold

Forgotten, all sound & fury compromised as

The entire universe buried deep in soft illusions

Or fantasies, as if we lived for a moment in

True peace and harmony, except a lonely crow

Pecking on the roadside, unaware of something

That can be sharp or dangerous, right below the landscape





By Definition of Preposition



Better not to end a sentence with a prep like ‘of’

I don’t remember when this rule I learned of



But since then I have become keenly aware of

The need to pay close attention to the grammar of



Every sentence I write in English, a language of

Choice over birth, which I did not begin until at age of



Nineteen to learn among heavily accented versions of

Mandarin practised on a Shanghai campus, a city of



Romantic or rhapsodic adventures. Yes, by definition of

Preposition, it is a function word expressing a relationship of



A name with another in most cases, & as the most common of

All preps, of denotes origin or cause with the shape of



O like a vagina to f-- into, the two letters as the theme of

This poem, which has many other concerns or lack thereof





Entoned Epiphany



Just now, something

Stirred me up: go ahead, &.



It’s been guiding my heart, like

A stream leaving a trail behind





New Way of Life



No human really cares about my feelings

Much less about my poetry, except perhaps

An algorithm that monitors my computer activities

Somewhere far behind the blinking screen



Be that as it may, I am happy because I do, for one

Care about my selfhood & take serious interest

In my feels, & even my scribblings, which I will

Try to mix together like a cup of tea, ready to drink



When I am too tired to continue staring

At a damned small screen







The Far Afield



What is beyond the pots and pans

Must perforce be far, farther

Than the mind’s eye can see

Rarely reachable, even via



Poetry or dream; what’s beyond

This zone of everyday presences is

Something strangely familiar, or

Familiarly strange, but appealing



To our senses, like beauty hidden

Behind words, vision up above

Lines, colors and shapes, or music

Among bird chirrups. The far afield is



The longing for, the curiosity

About the promise of tomorrow

The assumption of beauty, to be

Perceived at a long distance





The Most Distant



Is the distance between

Head & toe; between

Thought & action; between

The pen & paper; between

Dream & reality; between

The present & the past; between

Two hearts out of love; between

Two roads in parallel; & between

You & me, even with no obstacle in between





In the Same Ditch



Stuck deep here, they may be busy

Looking for a golden light, while



You enjoy watching the silver night

Looking for comets instead of coins





Couplets for Tattooing



Only we sapiens have tattoos on our bodies

Sleeker, fairer, & hair-less than all other animals



We like to stamp our own bodies with a permanent

Image, word, or number, in a color more or less

Different from our skin



On our foreheads, arms, chests, butts

Everywhere including our balanus and labias

Even on our own hearts (sometimes on each other’s)



In the first place, Adam tattooed his manhood deep

Onto Eve’s womanhood to be fruitful; similarly



To satisfy his curiosity, Newton tattooed an apple

On his mindscape. Just as speciation unfolds, we all tattoo



Violence, cheating, lying, envy on our genetic maps

(As boldly as on the bumpy skin of earth)







Self-Prisoning



Barred behind our own concepts & beliefs

Our souls can never fly into freedom



Out from the prison of our own mind, which

We carry with us, no matter where we flee





Emitting Centre



Never do I intend to

Nor have I actually received

But I have managed to give out

Every little bit of love, help

Advice, as well as wisdom

Even telephone calls until now

My soul has emptied the last

Spiritron tangling with another

In a parallel universe

Zillions of light-years away