2015，11，16
Jingzhou Pepper
Grown in my native
place, the ancient Chu Kingdom, where Mao Zedong and Qu Yuan were born and
raised, the Jingzhou Pepper is the most tasteful pepper in the whole world.
Neither
Too fat
Nor
Too skinny
But perfectly in a
unique shape
Each is
Just hot enough
To make you
A poetic revolutionary
like Mao Zedong
Or a revolutionary poet
like Qu Yuan
Equanimity
Hold the sun firmly
Right above your inner
landscape
And there will be no
shadow
Shaking around
Let alone darkness
That may engulf your
selfhood
Inside out
Unless it shakes
itself with a wind
Like a young tree at
the noon time
Reflection
Pick up the mirror
Lost in your bog of
consciousness
Clean it really well
With your inner
fingers
And you will see
through
All faces and facets
Until you attain a
clear vision
Of your original
selfhood
Your entire universe
Last Visit to My
Native Village
So, my closest
classmate Zhu Zhuogui
Finally died of his
old disease
My best work/playmate Siyan
Killed himself with a
fat bottle of dichlorvos
Even my first
girlfriend Zhou Yeqiong
Is somehow dead; now I
find myself
A total stranger amidst
my own fellow villagers
And their direct
offspring
While the calls of
frogs and cicadas
The odor of water buffalo
shit
The taste of zahujiao
(fried rice with shredded chili)
The tenderness of
cotton flowers
And nodding ears in
the rice field
Are all as familiar as
last century
Getting Newly Old (2)
If only I had known
pain was to bug me
From head to toe, day
and night
Sometimes gnawing at my
insides
Other times torturing
my bones and muscles
I would have tried harder
to stay young
So young that I can
sleep, sit, eat
Walk, run, jump with
all the ease
I used to take for
granted
Now, to age is to ache
at each stage
Fish and Bird
Bird
The height
Is but a distance
You can cover between
heaven and hell
Or beyond your own
inner space
Fish
The depth you can swim
to
Is no more than another
height
You have achieved
Within the coasts of
the outer ocean
Divided Soul
Also, my soul has
split into two halves:
One still remaining
Within my body
The other flying afar
Like a satellite of
our world
While both are singing
aloud
Within an immortal entanglement
Pomegranate
So long as you have
ample blood
Filling in your cells,
your heart
Will never fade
Within your fine
structure
A rosy inner being:
Each sarcotesta is inflated
With juicy passion
Fish at the Moonset
To get some fresh air
Or to escape from dark
pressure
That’s not the
question
But you must jump high
With all your
strengths
Against the horizon
For an early morning
glow
Or an ethereal realm
Even though for a
single moment
Fallen Leaf
Shaking off all the
dust
You have accumulated over
the season
Flapping your wings against
twilight
At the border of night
Like a butterfly coming
down to
Kiss the land
As if to listen to
The heartbeat of the earth
Only once in a
lifetime
Socializing
Whenever I feel more
lonely
Than I can bear alone
I would invite a group
of good words
To have an afternoon
tea with me
One would entertain us
with a joke
Another account for
its pasts
And a third challenge
each of us
With an inspiring line
By the time they leave
me
I have become closely
connected
With this busy world
Visiting Hongqi’s Tomb
I really hate doing
this, Dad
But each time I return
to my native village
I have to find all my
hard way
Between thorny cane
columns
Through cotton fields
To your bare tomb,
where to burn
Incense (miraculously
into a lotus-flower shape
As I did last summer),
fake money, firecrackers
(Which surprised me
with a disc herniation this autumn)
Kowtow (my younger bro
did this on my behalf), and say
Prayers as expected of
every traditional Chinese son
I know you did care
much about all this quasi-buddhist
Rituals, for I can see
your ghost standing afar between
Two puti twigs,
watching me in otherworldly silence
So does Mom, who would
say, in a laughing voice
Son, I know how you
would remember me after I die
Dusk
Sitting on a park
bench
You saw a lost crow as
lonely
As you were, whose
dark shadow
Was fading into
twilight, bit by bit
Like your soul
Shredded into pieces
Now drifting along the
skyline of
Vancouver West
Cracking
Between two high notes
The song gives a crack
Long enough
To allow me to enter
Like a fish jumping
back
Into the night water
Both the fish and I
leave no
Trace behind us, and
the world
Remains undisturbed as
we swim
Deeper and deeper in
blue silence
Upon my return, I find
the music
Still going on, while
the fish has
Disappeared into the
unknown
Between Wake and Dream
As if to dispel
All the shadows
Of darkness, the white
crow
I have kept for years
and years
Finally flew out of
the closet of my heart
Just when I began to dream
last night
New Start
Beginning from
tomorrow
My country will have a
new leader
Who promised to lower
the taxes
Beginning from
tomorrow
Another year of the
rooster will start
And so all those born
in this year are
Supposed to enjoy a
better luck
Beginning from
tomorrow
Allen’s internship is
ready to go
George will become the
father of an
Unborn baby, and I
will see a different doctor
Another Snowfall
Like the legendary
Nuwa
Mending the sky with
five-colored pebbles
More like Jingwei
trying to
Fill in the East Sea
with twigs and stones
The little crow hidden
behind the thin lines
Of my poetry cannot
wait to fly out
Ready to peck at every
Dark spot on the
ground
Simply to make a perfectly
white winter
While I am trying to
listen to the green noises
Of spring far behind
the west wind
2015, 8, 19
[Wednesday]
Boyhood Buoys (7): How
My Light Was Saved
Every summer, I would
be jailed within our straw-thatched cottage
for two weeks, while
other fourth- or fifth-graders nake-swam in ponds
monkey-climbed trees,
or frog-jumped around the rice fields in the village
both eyes sealed with
sticky secretions, I lived in total blindness
day and night, receiving
neither treatment by any fellow villager
nor any care from
adults in my large fostering household. Years later
I learned it was infection
that resulted from eating too much homemade
pepper sauce, often
the only dish we had to go with our make-do meals
I never understood why
I had to suffer from such hurting blindness
even though I have only
one eye actually functioning well in my life
yet I do know it was
this hidden fear about eventual loss of vision
That has made me all
the more sensitive to light, as well as darkness
Boyhood Buoys (8):
Firewood Gathering
While town folks used
electricity in every conceivable
Way, we did not have
enough firewood even for cooking
So, I went out with a
short scythe, against summer heat
Or winter chills, each
time farther away from home
To cut whatever wild
plants I could find after school
Once, I cut my own
left hand so deep that I
Became horrified as
blood gushed out of
My small palm. Of
course, the wound
Healed soon enough, but
ever since then
I have had a curved
middle finger (because of
Bad bandage), a finger
that prevented me from
Learning swordsmanship
to follow the steps
Of Li Po, a legendary
knight and the king of poetry
Boyhood Buoys (9):
First Originative Simile
Before each breakfast,
in grade five, I would get up
In haste, with a pair
of quasi-chopsticks and a pair
Of half-opened eyes,
going from cottage to cottage
In the whole village
to collect chicken shit, like lost
Gold or silver coins,
into a broken basket, something
I could contribute to
our commune as fertilizer for
My fostering family.
Occasionally, I was lucky
Enough to find a pile
of goat or water-buffalo shit
So inspired by these
findings that I once could not
Help using it to refer
to the anti-revolutionary
Elements in our village
when I wrote compositions
In school. Though this
simile turned out a big
Laugh stock for the
whole school, it was the first
Image I have ever
added to our red literary canon
Boyhood Buoys (10): Local
Celebrity
By playing Hu
Chuankuei, a vulgar and stupid
Military commander in
a popular Peking opera
I became more famous
than our villager head:
Folks even from
neighboring villages could readily
Recognize me and would
intimate my voice
Indeed, while other boys
in grade seven or eight
Had not enough to eat
in their own homes, I could
Earn a couple of extra
meals outside our school
However, when I went
to the county town to attend
Senior high, my acting
career came to a sudden end
Not because of my
mother’s intervention (for fear that
My acting was making me
into a vulgar and stupid
Student), but because
of the trend gone with the wind
It was then that I learned
all the lessons about being
A celebrity on the
stage, or a nonentity under it
Searching among Trees
In a forest beyond the
boundary of mind
I try to find a tree
neither too tall, nor
Too twisted, but what
I did see is a
Tree thickly bushy,
and uniquely straight
With every leaf
glistening like a scar
In the sun, a tree I
long to date with
Even to marry
After I divorce my
fated pasts
History Reviewed (9): The
East Acronym
Dried leaves. Lu Yu.
Black. Green. Oolong.
The destruction of an
Entire shipment from
East India Company
At Boston Harbour.
Robert Fortune. And
The first and second
Opium War…
Boiled together with
little
Withered leaves are
thefts
Crimes, revolutions,
invasions
As well as the subjugation
of
Two oldest, largest civilizations
Some Butterflies Never
Fly
Their wings are
gracefully colored
With patterns just as
beautiful as any
But they can never fly
out of your
Dream, my heart, or
her inner space
Like an invisible
chrysalis, even if
They can move high up
and down
Between time and
space, even if they
Can move close enough around
our souls
They can never flap
their wings
And fly into the human
vision
Gravity
Everything on earth
falls straight to the ground
Including the
Newtonian apple, even the tiniest
Bodies visiting from
an unknown outer space
Except thought, the
only perceivable construct
That can fly around,
upwards and, if powerful
Enough, beyond the
earthly atmosphere. Indeed
It will refuse to go
along any pre-ordained orbit
But keep moving
towards the heart or the boundary
Of the universe, until
it penetrates all dark matter
And settles down
somewhere for another Big bang
Situational Irony
Redefined
Each time you notice
honors piled
Upon another unknown
author, you
Just cannot help
finding it ironical:
Yes, your very writing
presents itself
As a bitter irony:
while all the unworthy
Authors become
worthier, your worth
Of words is treated as
worthless waste
Sometimes you even
believe your own
Existence as a human
being is nothing
But really a walking
shadow, a bloated
Joke beside those
whose mediocrisms
Are the only warranty
of loud fame and
Shiny honor in this
nice and cold land, eh?
Disclaimer
The parrot that has
been imitating
Me in my inner house
has finally
Flown away, but its mimicking
voice
Does not necessarily
reflect my opinion
Nor does it have any
idea about being
As politically correct
as you and me
Yaleugooli
While nobody has ever
been to heaven (or hell)
I can readily go to
Yaleugooli, an inner island
More charming than
Maui and Palawan combined
With a beech more
sensational than El Nido or
Lopes Mendes; in
particular, a cave more majestic
Totally lost in seeing countless wonders of nature
But also take a respite as long as I like; an other
Eden where I can enjoy being one and the same with
Hyperion (from North California?) as my soulmate
Or live an immortal life like the Metasequoia King
Near my native village in central China, if ever I
I so choose when I feel disturbed by earthly
winds
Or suffer from insomnia in the heart of winter night
Yes, I’ve been to Yaleugook, more than a
thousand times
While they could only wish to enter heaven after
they die
Departing: For Liu Yu
Ever since my father’s departure, I have found
it
Unbearable to see my beloved mother. Indeed
I cannot stand even to think of her while she
cooks
My favourite dishes in the kitchen of my newer
House in Vancouver West, or smiles at my son and
Chats with me over my boyish nastiness at the
border
Of my dream. Indeed, I feel both my body and
Soul tightened, my voice choked with sorrow
And pain, each time this evil thought props up
at the
Backyard of my heart: with my father gone
forever
My mother is now living a posthumous life among
us
As her ageing and fragile life is fading at the
edge
Of our wishes and prayers. Mom, are you still
there?
2015, 7, 28. [Tuesday]
The Sorrow of a
Lifetime
You have long since
found
Every part of speech
Even every word
Readily available
To describe love
Between men and women
But for all the drafting
efforts
You made last century
You are still unable
To write a single
Sentence about it
Let alone putting
Some words together
In a meaningful stanza
Natural Attachment
All the white clouds
have set
Off on their way to
heaven
Except this dark one
still busy
Dropping its wet
burden
Like transparent anchors
Down to the hell of
earth
Myriads of silver
wires
In thin and long
bundles
As if to angle a
fossil fish
Rain Cloud
With myriads of
silk-lines
Tying the land so
tightly
The cloud cannot drift
Away from the
territory
Even in the strongest
storm
Nor can you tear it
off
From your droughted
soul
Every Star Is Blinking
Beyond the deadland
Every heart is beating
Near the chest; leaves
Are fluttering. Listen
At this antlike moment,
your
Inner voice is
breaking too
Ode to Trees
You must have
A pair of eyes
Once thrilled
By a fashion show
To behold one tree
After another, or
A whole forest
Each wearing
The most fitting
Garment of
The season, its
Standing posture
Full of charm and
Grace. The leaves
All so similar
And the roots, its
Other better half is
Reaching down farther
Under the ground
Its trunk and twigs
Bend but never
Break. Each so
Unique, so full
Of feminine beauty
The Unheard Descant
More heart-pounding
than the rockiest
Rock-n-roll, weightier
than the heaviest
Metal music, and far
more ever-lasting
Than the Ninth
Symphony is this melody
That no human ear can
hear, like the call
Of a pacific whale able
to reach beyond
A whole continent. The
burning utterance
Of a sun in another
parallel universe
The melody that has
never been heard
Nor will it ever become
detectible to
Any human artifact;
the song that is
Buried deep in the
valley of a voice
The song that can be
perceived
Only with the fingers
of your heart
Prison Camp
no, there is no
barbed wire; no
neither stockade
nor watch tower
which are both
unnecessary: this
is a real jungle
on an unmapped
island, where
every untrodden
trail of escape
leads to death only
quick and direct
but if you toil
hard enough
(with your pen
or bare hands)
you might perhaps
survive or succeed
Pattern Drill
(Like thinking)
Into line
Left turn
Right turn
Mark time
Never stand at ease
Or be dismissed
From the present
moment
Unless by your own
higher self
Pattern Drill
Into line
Left turn
Right turn
Mark time
Stand at ease
Now, dismissed
From the present
moment
From your outer
selfhood
(As in meditation)
Pair Bond
In the heyday of the
Song dynasty
Lin used to have two renowned
Soulmates: one is a
Chinese plum
Tree, the other a
yellow crane
Living far beyond
Mount Lonely
I have but only one,
an albatross
Not because of its
widest wings or
Because of its large
size and flying
Power, but because of
its loyalty
That lasts until death
departs the pair
Yes, married to a bird
for better or for worse
My innerself can fly
far and high like the Peng
From Zhuanzi’s sky,
never having to worry it will
Follow my wife to
pursue her girlish romanticisms
You Have a Dream
You will be sad to
depart from us tomorrow
At an antlike moment
in the smallest space
Where you will become
used to singing aloud
With a throat wider
than your belly, the song
Of a frog with only
one tone and one pitch
A song about your
dream flowing with leeches
In a ricefield. Yes,
you will have a loud dream!
You will dream of
humans who will no longer
Try to catch you, skin
you off, barbecue you
Or eat you alive as
they do with their own
Species; you will
dream of jumping
As high as summer
stars, and as rapid
As winter winds. You
will dream of
Equality, equilibrium
and equanimity
Yes, thank his Song,
thank God Almighty
From human catch you
will be free at last!
2015, 7,9 [Thursday]
Boyhood Buoys (1): Village
Fashion
For the whole school
year of the seventh grade
I kept dreaming of a new
pair of tennis shoes
White-rimmed,
blue-covered, that all boys
From rich families in
towns and cities
Were said to be
wearing, even when some of
Them were sleeping at
night. At least three times
A day, I would imagine
myself goose-walking
In them until one
morning I noticed the pretty girl
Living next door to us
in the village came to
School much later than
usual. While every other
Boy burst into a loud
unanimous wow
I proudly whispered to
my best pal:
You know, her foster mother shares
Exactly the same family name with me!
Boyhood Buoys (2): Secret
Tryst
I never understand the
taboo of my village school
But all boys avoided
speaking to girls, and vice versa
Nevertheless, whenever
I felt the real urge to
See my girl in private,
I would hum aloud while
Walking out of our
classroom, and in the evening
She and I would meet
behind a low sand ridge in the
Dried riverbed.
Watching the summer stars in
Innocent silence, we
would sit for a while deep in
Each other’s arms
until we departed in equal silence
Even without hitting
upon the idea of a real kiss
Her name was Chen
Yeqiong, a tall, slim and pretty
Fellow villager, with
a birthmark above her right lips
That’s when we were in
grade eight; that’s as early
As half a century ago,
on the other side of the world
Boyhood Buoys (3): The
Most Memorable Science Class
We didn’t know how or
why, but we came to be
Convinced that
swallowing a fresh snake gall
Would give us a more
insightful pair of eyes
So, after catching a
three-feet long grass snake
We skinned it off
carefully, and cooked a big
Pot of soup with its
old chicken-like meat
(O boy, how delicious
it tastes! But my mom
Dare not go to the
kitchen for a whole week)
The next morning, I
blew enough air into the
Slough, made it into a
vivid staff dragon, went
To school early and
put it in the top-open desk
Closest to the podium.
When the lid is raided,
The fully wound dragon
threw the whole class
Into shriek. That’s
our only field science class
Boyhood Buoys (4): Frogmeat
Sale
To earn a couple of
yuan to buy some
Kerosene oil for our
lamp in the house
I followed my
neighbor, an older boy
To catch frogs in the
middle of night
It was always a sure
thing to do: where-
Ever we heard a frog
sing, we would
Stealthily approach
it, illuminate it
With torchlight, and
pick it up with
All the ease we could
enjoy. Sometimes
I did feel sorry for
the frog: its eyes were
Shining bright under
the summer stars
But why did it fail to
escape from danger?
Early next morning, we
would skin our catch
And went to the nearest
town, shouting aloud
‘Fresh frog meat !’
like the frogs singing at the
Top of their voice,
after dusk, in the rice fields
Top Ten Quotes and
Sayings?
The first wealth is
wealth
The second place is
just the first place loser
The third world is not
a reality but an ideology
The fourth dimension
to any landscape is memory
The fifth member of my
band is my non-profit work
The sixth sense is at
the core of our experience
The seventh day of
action would be filled by God’s boredom
(The eighth wonder of
the world is you name it)
The ninth symphony
will remain, although everything will pass and the world will perish
The tenth amendment
said its powers are explicitly given in the Constitution
Trees in My Garden
My words - the young
fir balsams like a place
Where houses all are
churches and have spikes
Bu the olives hey were
not blind to Him,
The little gray leaves
were kind to Him
All stately set with
spare bracelet rope,
The Fir-Tree stood and
sailed and sailed
O white pear,
Your flower-tufts,
Thick on the branch
Brings summer and ripe
fruits
In the people’s hearts
The cherry trees bend
over and over shedding,
On the old road when
all that passed are dead
Then I went to my
pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and
by night
There stands the
awesome Upas Tree
Lone watchman of a
lifeless land
The oak tree:
Not interested
In cherry blossoms
Aspen Tree, your
leaves glance white into dark,
My mother’s hair was
never white
The girt woak tree
that’s in the dell!
There’s no tree I do
lover so well
A bottle tree bloometh
in Winkyway land –
Heigh-ho for a bottle,
I say!
Have you ever heard of
the Sugar-Plum Tree?
‘T is a marvel of
great renown!
Loveliest of trees,
the cherry now
Is hung with bloom
along the bough
And the lime-tree,
lovely and tall, every leaf silent
Hardly looses even a
last breath of perfume
Zoo
Close
All the gates
And imprison
Every species
Including human
visitors
To free
The open wildness
From being
Trampled
Aquarium
Rather than a queen
Bathed in my own tears
While worshipped
Before glass walls
I would be
A tiny shrimp
At the bottom
Of the food chain
Even to be
Eaten alive
While swimming
Freely
Boyhood Buoys (5): Waterbuffalo-Boy
How I envied Doggie
when his little hunchbacked
Father was appointed
the caretaker of the tallest
Water buffalo in our
communist commune:
Every day, after
school, he would ride her
For his father,
plodding along from one
Grass spot to another.
While I had to dig
All kinds of obscure
plants for our ever-stunted
Pig and collect
chicken shit from every household
For the collective, he
could take a sightseeing
Ride around the whole
village (and even enjoy
Fucking the handsome
creature with his arm
And fist as he liked),
until one day, I tried to bribe
Him into allowing me
to play my flute on her
Moving back and thus
fulfill this idyllic dream
But he barked back with
a broken voice: No way!
Grafting
Insert a fir twig
Deep, deeper
Into the slit on your
heart
And you are sure to grow
To be an evergreen
personality:
Strong, straight,
nobly tall
And uniquely handsome
Aubade
You might have stayed
up
All night, clicking at
every link
To your daydream,
searching
For a soulmate in the cyberspace
You might have enjoyed
an early dose
Of original sin
between sleep and wake
Before packing up all
your seasonal greetings
With your luggage to
catch the first plane
Or sitting up in
meditation
With every sensory
cell
Widely open to receive
Blue dews from nirvana
But you did not.
Rather, you have just
Had another long fit
of insomnia and
Now in this antlike
moment, you are
Imagining a lucky
morning glow
That is darting along
the horizon
Boyhood Buoys (6):
Deeper Than the First Cut
With a
lower-than-the-average performance
For every class, you
never gave a damn
To Mr Zhou (the most
senior teacher
In your village
school) when he announced
You were far less
smart than your mom
But after reading some
sample passages
From A-graded
compositions, Mr Zhou
Began to cut deeper as
he continued to
Ridicule the way a
slow student coined
Awkward idioms and,
worse still, compared
Local
anti-revolutionary elements to piles
Of cap-like shit of
water buffalos
How can you laugh together with others!
He pointed his finger
like a snake head
Right at my nose while
the whole class
Guffawed: Don’t you remember you’re
The very inventor of this disgusting simile?
Life & Meaning
There is
No meaning
To anybody
Or anything
There is
In the first place
Except this
Only creation
Out of our own
Inner being
2015,6,5 [Friday]
Don’t Miss Me, Son,
Ever After I Die
Don’t miss me, Son,
ever after I die
For as a son I know
how you will sigh
With mixed feelings
when you recall
The spot where I
showed you the first sugar cane
The moment when I took
you to DLG Elementary
The first time we
hiked in Cypress Mt Park
The first sightseeing tour
we had (to Zhangjiajie)
The cozy restaurant
where we ate in Beijing
The short poem I
bribed you to write in grade ten
The lectures I gave
you about the dynamic
Rebalancing of yin and
yang… No, don’t
Don’t miss me, Son, not
ever after I die
For I know how you
will be getting high
With sadness that can engulf
and suffocate
Your entire inner
being when you recollect
The broken pieces of my
image, but think
More about your son,
about how you two
Can enjoy being
together at each supper time
Eating dumplings,
talking aloud, joking
And laughing while you
are still well and alive
Don’t, just don’t miss
me after I die, Son
But keep thinking
about your own son’s son
While all of you are so
very much well alive
Birds of Disparate Feathers:
A Confucian Call
Come, come, you peng
From the Zhuangzian
northern darkness
You swan from the Horacean
meadows
You pheasant from
under Li Bo’s cold moon
You oriole from Dufu’s
green willow
You dove from the Dantean
inferno
You phoenix from
Shakespeare’s urn
You swallow from the
Goethe oak or
The Nerudan dense blue
air, you cuckoo
From the Wordsworthian
vale, you albatross
From the Coleridgean
fog, you nightingale
From the Keatsian plum
tree, you skylark
Form the Shalleyean
heaven, you owl
From under the Baudelairen
overhanging years
You unnamed creature from
the Pushkinian alien lands
You raven from near Poe’s
chamber door
You parrot from the Tagorean
topmost twig
And you crows from
among my cawing words
Come, all of you, more
than 100 kinds of
Birds from every time
spot or spot moment
Come, with your light
but strong skeletons
Come, with your hard
but toothless beaks
Come, with your
colored feathers, and flap your wings
Against Su dongpo’s
painting brush strokes
Come, all you free
spirits of nature
Let’s join one another
and flock together
High, higher up towards
mabakoola
For Example
The sun never set
within the British territories
The yingzheng of Qin
burned all the bamboo books
And buried all the
Confucianists alive; the other
Partner-quantum is
intricately entangled somewhere
On the other side of
the world; the aliens are
Travelling in and out
of the hollowed moon
The American super-soldier
fucked every
Female in the village;
the mers is plaguing
The old soul right now;
Greece’s debt became
A huge crisis for all
Europe; as many as
Eighty million Chinese
males can never hope
To find their own
sexual partners; the ants
Invade your house in June
and October every
Year; certain words
grouped together can
Win a fame forever; it’s
never explained
Why the main character
came to town, while
An ant is trying to push
a water droplet home …
Rock vs Waves
Hard, cold, firm
As apathetic as time
itself
You hold your position
Against countless
attacks of surging billows
That keep pounding
your naked chest day and night
Like fate knocking at
the Beethoven’s door
You will never give up
your effort
Or you would collapse
into sand
Reconciliation
You hate winds all
your life, you hate them
Even more than you do
trends or fashions
That come and go like unbearable
nuisances
Constantly disturbing
your thinking
And writing in peace,
but now you have
Finally become used
to, and deeply found of
The breathing of
nature, the only movement
That can carry on and
spread your spirit as far
As widely, even long
after you die
Yes, thanks to the
winds, your ideas are
Greening in a foreign
desert
Intimacy vs
Independence
Like two neighboring
willows
You are so mutually
independent
That you would never
bother
To think of each other
On a sunny day
But during a storm you
would
Hug each other
tightly, while
A snowfall makes you
connected
Smoothly as a whole
Yes, body and soul
Neutralization
Reaction
When an acid feeling
Is mixed with
An alkaline whim
Or
When bitter
experiences
Are infused with
Loneliness
Wisdom crystalizes
Within the water of
life
Most Basic Calculations
Personality plus environment
Is fortune
The blue sky minus low clouds
Makes the season
Footprints times detours
Lead to the gateway
Love divided by self
Equals happiness
Pendulum
hung never too high
from the frictionless
pivot of nature
fate is a weight
that keeps swinging
from yin to yang
or the other way half
around
between day and night
between ups and downs
How I Miss You, Dad:
For Yuan Hongqi
It is true, Dad, I
never even liked you
When you were still
alive last century
But ever since your last
departure
Once and forever, how
often
Have I missed you, how
often
Have I been choked
With fitful sadness
Like this
Like this moment
That keeps surging
against my inner beach
Then, afar from old
china
another summer storm
is arising
Another autumn mist is
permeating around
Icicle
Hold it in your hand
And your intimacy will
Make it melt
Into self-oblivion
Catch it like a bird,
or
Throw it towards the
sun
And it will fly into
the sky
Vanishing in total
self-loss
Defying
With the cage
tightening, and
Despite my wounded
wings
I am still free to try
Trying harder to fly
Flying up so high
Higher than the sky
Beyond this universe
Locked inside out
In the Cyberspace
A mouse is clicking
near each screen
The entire world is
flooded
Again, with bytes
Fully coded with whims
And words
Which is my
digitalized being?
Where can my spirit
settle down?
Without an ark
My innerself is
getting drowned
Spiritum
As I meditate under
the morning glow
All my scattered proto
consciousness
Gathers together
Slowly
Piece by piece
At the bottom of a
black hole
To represent itself
Like a mounted arrow
Ready to shoot
At the setting sun
2015, 5, 27 [weds]
History Reviewed (3):
When Modern Western
Civilization Penetrated
Qing China…
Sh… the foreign devils
are coming
They are entering our
village, quietly
They are planting tall
phone poles and
Spreading wires everywhere
to steal
All the innocent consciousness
From every boy and
girl; they are using
Small dark boxes to catch
the soul of
Each living creature,
even that of a crow
And cow. Just fancy,
how they are eager
To drink wine brewed out
of menses, while
Meeting each other in
a cross-guarded
Bungalow; how they are
fond of wearing white
And watching human corpses
in a hospital
Where they make them
into wax figures
O Heaven! The western devils
are really coming
To our village, with
all kinds of foreign monsters
Is That All You Have
to Say?
I am sorry to have
killed
You family by accident
I apologize that I
have to
Declare bankruptcy; I,
I
Very much regret
having
Escaped from our
wedding
Ceremony; I repent for
setting
Your dream house on
fire
I owe you an apology
for losing
All your hard-saved
money
In the stock market; really
I am sorry that my
apologies
Are quite cheap whereas
Your suffering may be
a bit
Too costly. Yes, I am
sorry
Just Another
Microphone Gaffe
After my election, I
have more flexibility
To deal with liars
like Netanyahu on a
Daily basis, to put up
with the hair of that
Bigoted woman, to show
my admiration
Of Moshe for raping
ten employees of
His office, to crucify
all the major league
Assholes and cabinet
bastards, to outlaw
Russian forever, to get
rid of our debts
By killing all Chinese
on earth and
Even more important
perhaps, to learn
The lessons about when
the microphone is
On, and when it is off
like right now
Go to hell, all you fucking idiot voters
Tendency
I have already stopped
But it is my shadow
That is still moving
As if it has a farther
Destination to reach
So, don’t even try to
Hold it back within
Your shape, but just
Let it keep going,
going
Until the sun sets
further
Down, or until it
joins
The sun on the other
Side of this turning
world
WIFE: Another
Etymological Poem
Nothing will keep you committed
In either direction, up
or down
As if suspended in the
mid-air
The fortune book we
have never consulted
Clearly states:
‘un-appropriate’ because our
Eight birth-characters
don’t quite go along
Un-appropriate it is, yet I took you as
My wife, darling,
though you have hurt
My feelings more often
than the book predicts
Rather, I took commitment
for wife. The English spelling
Contains ‘if’ between
w and e. Or w e
Are separated by an
‘if’ in the blank
Committed wife. I hold
you, I still do
Say Something,
Anything
I wonder what I can
Say: Is the microphone
live?
Are you all there?
Perhaps none of you
are
Actually listening?
Perhaps it is high
time?
Definitely, I should
Never swear, but try
to
Sound polite and humorous
Or even politically
correct?
I apologize for my aphasia
My loss of voice
Inner Winter: To Allen
While the summer sun
is shining
Through the whole
universe, it fails
To penetrate your
yellowish skin to
Dispel the harsh
season within your
Body. Yes, just as the
Chinese doctor says
Ever since you caught
a cold at the age
Of eight, the coldness
has occupied
Your inner being, especially
your spine
Where it has frozen the
balanced flow of
Your qi and blood,
thus making your disks bulge
Or herniate. That’s
why you must raise the sun
Above the horizon;
raise it high, Son, higher with
Each persistent try
against your inner sky
To soften all the
coldness within your base chakra
To make the whole
winter melt completely until all
Your meridians become
soft, warm, resilient
Glittering
All that glitters may
be as gorgeous as gold
For example: the tears
bursting out of an
Old cow’s eye, the
skylights seen under
A flying airbus, the
fishes trying to jump out
Of the nightly
currents, the little palm-mirror
Taken from a girl’s
schoolbag, the foiled
Head of Buddha in an
unknown temple
The baby teeth kept
beside the pillow of
Your child, the waves
surging against
Autumn coasts, the ice
that is floating
Along spring, as well
as the naked words
Rolling and wallowing
like brown bears
In the stream of a
running consciousness
In fact, all that
glitters is glossier than gold
Plenum
The other day I was
thinking about the
Immortality of God,
Nature and Man’s
Artifact (like
Buddha’s teachings, and
Newton’s discovery of
gravity) when
I noticed another
apple being eaten
By a lost child, the
apple that was dropped
Onto the pavement from
a broken bag
The one that was to
inspire the eater’s
Playmate to eventually
make a robot
Able to change the
direction of our
Mother earth’s movement,
and even
The way the human mind
works, yes
The same old rotten apple
that reminds of
The stinking corpse of
a poor guy
Which led a prince to
become Buddha
Once upon a long long
time ago
Bottom Line
Now you have fully
fulfilled
Your wish to be richer
than
Bill Gates, more
powerful
Than Xi Jingping,
better
Known than Jesus,
sexier than
David Beckham or more
Beautiful than Nina
Dobrev
Have a home bigger
than Antilia
A fleet of
Lamborghinis
Ten thousand
concubines
Or husbands … and/or
What else do you wish
to be
To do or to have? Yes,
after all
Your dreams come true,
you
Will hope to do the
same as
You can right now: go
and
Give the world a
genuine smile
Don’t’ you? Can’t you?
LIFE: an Etymological
Poem
To live a happy life,
you do
Need to know it is
nothing but
A ‘lie’ hidden among
the letters
If you take out ‘f’ as
in failure
Or, it would lead you everywhere
once
You become aware of ‘if’
at the center
Yes, you should try to
be resilient
As lively as an elf for
yourself
That is, when you play
with the word
And forget ‘i’ behind
the letter ‘l’
The Secret of Death
Every human fears
death, because
No one has resurrected
to assure us
Dying is the most
pleasurable experience
A human can hope to
have; indeed
Everyone is de-created
equal
Only once and for a
single moment
To feel the beauty of
your soul flying
From within the little
nest of your mind
To the vast treetop far
beyond Eden
2015, 4, 22
Green Betrayal
You wish to be a
Douglas fir
Tall, straight, almost
immortal
But you stand like a
Peking willow
Prone to cankers, full
of twisted twigs
Worse still, you are
not so resistant
As the authentic
willow that can bend gracefully
Shake off all its
unwanted leaves in autumn
When there is a wind
blowing even from nowhere
No matter how much
sunshine you receive
During the summer, you
have nothing but scars
To show off against
winter storms
The scars that you can
never shake off
Lifestyle of a Bird
Instead of pecking
around on the ground
For grain or gold to
satisfy your hunger
You keep flying all
day long, trying
To fetch feathers
stuck in muddy history
Twigs far beyond
Adam’s continent, and
Rice stems from summer
fields, with which
You long to build a
permanent nest
High on the top of the
tallest Douglas fir
Where you can live closest
to heaven
But you may be shot
down by a hunter
When flapping towards
divinity
Visualizing
Above the water
The swan looks so
elegant
Pure and noble
Beneath the surface
Its feet are paddling hard
Like an ugly duck
But invisible as they
are
You can also imagine
them
Like the wings of a
white eagle
The wings that are flapping
Fiercely against
currents
Ready to fly into the
depth of season
Three Souls
Everyone has only one
soul
But I have three:
One was shot down like
a wild goose
When I was trying to
fly to heaven
Another dug out like
an earthworm
As I was driven into
the underworld
The third is still
swimming freely
In my inner ocean,
where I fear
It might be caught
within a fishing net
Typo
The reader has closed
the book
But his attention is
still drifting
Along the lines, where
you find yourself
A typo that few eyes
can discern
Even the viewer uses a
magnifier
A mistake that can
never be
Properly rectified,
though it could still
Be understood in the
context
Beyond the Mountain
Between me and spring
Lies a whole range of
hills
Up above is a bird attracted
by the
Landscape of both
sides
For every circle it
flies
There are new leaves
turning green
And crawling along the
twigs
Too busy absorbing sunlight
and dews
Standing, We Are United
on the only rock found
in this waste land
let's arise, arise
high against the sky
by standing on the
shoulders of each other
not only to re-find
the same and one
language we used to
speak in Babel
not only to see
further than Wang Zhihuan
after he climbed to
another storey, or
than Newton on the
shoulders of giants
but to use our own
bodies as a totem pole
in honour of the tens
of millions of civilians
slaughtered in
Nanjing, murdered in Auschwitz
and killed in numerous
villages and towns
from eastern China to
western Europe
hey, do you see the
spectre drifting around
right above Yasukuni
Shrine as Abe and
his followers pay
tribute to the war criminals?
Limbo
This is the gray area
Between black and
white
Between war and peace
Between legal and
illegal
Between light and
shadow
Between yin and yang
Between life and death
Between sleep and wake
Between you and me
Where we can clearly
see each other’s
Soul, but will never meet
in person
The Eagle
The eagle is carved
In deep relief of
The marble; the marble
Is perching quietly
Under its wings, both
Squatting heavily
On my whims
The eagle murmurs
To me: Give me
A patch of sky, and
I can fly really high
Be it even a spot
Of painted space
Bridge
Walking along the
river
I see spring newly
arriving
On the other side,
where flowers
Laugh loudly, birds
Play with joy; in good
nature
I respond with a smile
As if an other self is
greeting
Me in sincere respect
So I keep walking
along
And smiling, until I
come to
The estuary, where I
still
Cannot find a bridge, except
Waters widening,
blocking me
From the season that
overwhelms
The other bank with
green
Wash
Not everyone can
Be white washed
Yes, every white
Has been washed
But one who can
Not be washed
Is not white
Even within the wall
Dreaming
You shouldn’t day-
Dream all the time
Sometimes you can
Dream about the day
But other times you
Must run in the wild
Jumping or stumbling
Simply to day the
dream
Grocery List
1 big jug of organic
meditation
2 rolls of recycled equanimity
3 pounds of fresh
offline
4 bundles of
neighborhood meetings
5 boxes of local
visits
6 bottle of genuine
walk in nature
7 loafs of raw
self-examination
2015,3,18
Soft Medium: A Wishful
Whim
If, if everyone could
Use love instead of
money
As the only medium
Of exchange, who would
Choose to declare
bankruptcy
Or rob an old lady right
after
She withdraws her
hard-saved
Cash? Who would jump
From a tower or bridge
Because of his recent
losses
In the stock market?
Who would
Go to bed hungry in
the heart of
Darkness? Who would rent
her body
To a male animal? Who
would try to
Accumulate riches at
the cost of
His conscience or
character?
In particular, who
would
Trade his soul with
the devil?
Indeed, who would
refuse
To exchange love for love?
The Human-headed Bird
(An ancient artifact displayed in
Jinzhou Museum)
That human-headed bird
Flapping its wings
against
Foreign visitations
must have been
Either possessed by the
spirit of
My previous life
Or winged by the body of
My next being; otherwise
It would never bother
to
Look up at me
As it flies into the
same legend
About the yellow crane
All its feathers fall down
On my sandy mind, like
meteorites
With all their secrets
hardened
From an other universe
Autumn Evening
Sky and sea are zipped
closed
By a flock of migratory
birds
Beyond the groves of
maple trees
The blood of the
season gets dry
Dusk becomes deadly
stagnant, as
The skyline is trimmed
by darkness
In the Lot
One Lincoln appears to
be moving
Two crows are dancing
around
Several leaves are
rolling along
Nothing has really settled
down
Is there a place for
you? For whom
Are those spaces
reserved anyway?
The fallen cone misses
its post high up
There, though it is
not far from the roots
You have to wait,
probably for nothing
While your engine
keeps running. Many
Prints of worn-out
tires. A big sign board
Prohibits unauthorized
vehicles like yours
I am tired of being always on the run
But where on earth can I park my car?
Learning About
No two trees share
The same shape; each
Keeps trying hard to
Restore its unique
Figure. That’s growing
Out of a trunk,
similar
Almost exactly
As thick as all the
Branches combined
This is the secrete of
nature
About the sublime
About the subtle
Best Regards
He was playing the
game
At the Fraser River
Park
Or you are told. He
Sprained his ankle
While running after
the dog
To balance his body
and soul
Why not unleash his
inner pet?
Beyond the park
Is a boat darting
Towards the open sea
Looking afar
Looking forward
Yesterday’s Newspaper
Like a small leaf
Rolling along
From curb to curb
Beside or behind
Each running wheel
You have become
Heavy, even heavier
Than the headline
Of the front page
Once the wind stops, you
Will get stuck right here
Among all the forlorn
Pieces of history
Writer
What a surreal living
You replied as you
passed
By. Sitting still, you
Are a juggler; running
Amuck, you are a
dreamer
Now, you are
Roaming all over
The mountains and seas
Of this world, just to
locate
One single word
Your Song
To sing a single song well,
hopefully as
Aloud as a pacific
whale, whose call can
Reach far beyond a
continent, you have used
All the strengths of
your life, but tone-deaf
And never able to
carry a tune, you sound
Like an old donkey
that has lost its voice
So prosaic and,
indeed, so monotonous
No human ears would
turn to you; even if
Your throat gets choked
with blood, there
Is no echo from the heart
of the valley
A Rented Place Is No
Home to Your Soul
Everyone has an innerself
that actually needs
No housing, be it a
well-located apartment
Or a luxurious
mansion, for which you have
To toil and moil to
pay off the mortgage
And constantly to
paint, to furnish, or to
Renovate it as you
would do for your outerself
But it does require you
to design and construct
A dwelling somewhere
or anywhere, on a treetop
Beside a streamlet, under
a boulder, or beyond
The horizon, where you
can ease your entire inner
Being into anything or
nothing, where you can
Uplift your own spirit
and your farthest relative
As if in a sociological
quantum entanglement
Last Words to HL
I am, as I have always
been, really sorry, darling
For all that you have
had to go through simply
To remain my wife. While
I love you, treasure
You, you have seldom cared
about me, especially
Since we got married.
Indeed, you have been trying
Very hard to be a
reasonably dutiful spouse, yet
You never touch me,
respect me, but treat me no more
Or no less than a money-making
machine, ready
To leave me when you
find me hopelessly too poor
Making love from time
to time with someone else
Right in the kitchen of
your heart, I know all that
I know all this has
been very hard for you, darling
But now you are
becoming truly free, free from me
Free from any
restrictions, Chinese or foreign, you
Can do whatever you
want with your heart or body
To pursue your girlish
romanticism or fantacies
The moment I breathe out
this last syllable of mine
Be well, darling, I know
you will forget me soon and
Have many more years
to live. And I am sorry, darling
Really, I am deeply
sorry to have kept you for so long
Contributing to
Society
Some nake-donate their
riches
Others volunteer their
time and effort
Still others have been
trying to accumulate
Good dharma or good
deeds, but for you
And me, it is all as
simple as this:
Just be happy, for a hearty
smile is
The best gift you can
give to this world
Smiling
A professional trained
smile
May look fresher, last
longer
Than a plastic or silk
flower
But without fragrance
Without life, it can
never
Soften a human heart
Plant the seed of
happiness well
In the garden of your
sub-consciousness
Water it, fertilize
it, take care of it
And it will bloom into
smiles
Even in the depth of a
wintry night
2015,3,6
e.Poching: Nine
Questions
1/ Prologue
Are we still humans
As we have always
been? Indeed
For the past half
century, we have
Changed so much more
and faster
Than in the past ten
thousand years
That our cultural
genes are undertaking a mutation
Which is transforming every
one of us into an ihooyeau
If not a yahoo, even
though we remain in the perfect human shape
So, are we really
humans like our fathers or grandfathers?
Word’s Worth: A Universal Motto
If by life you were
deceived
Don’t cry because the
sun has gone out of your life
Don’t hesitate to be
or not to be
But just stick to the
road less travelled by
Even if no one who
knows language knows what you suffer
For every human was
born to serve a meaningful purpose
Indeed, you don’t lack
strength; you lack will only
So, rage, rage against
the raging of the winter
And spring will not be
far behind
Quantum Entanglement:
A Revolution in Sociology
Once you uplift your
spirit
And find your pathway
to a high realm
Even every cellular
memory of yours will
Become elevated within
your skin
And so will your offspring
and relatives
Ascend into a superior
state of being
Be it ten thousand
miles away
At the very edge of
your world, just
Like all the meshes of
a fishing net
Becoming open when the
headrope is pulled out
How a Dream Comes True:
a Frontal Poem
If you model your
inner being
On your wish, it would
create itself
By repeating a simple
process
In an ever ongoing
feedback loop
Until this infinitely
complex pattern
Grows so self-similar
across different
Scales that your whole
life becomes
An all-dimensional
manifestation of what
You have dreamed to be
or not to be
Shortcut to Happiness
You never have to die
To go to heaven
Nor do you need to
rely
On any religious
rituals
All you should do
Is just to climb
Into the wicket of
An inner balloon; then
Light the burner
Drop off the ballast
weights
One after another
As you rise, keep
rising
Until you reach high
High into a time spot
Where you become the
universe
And the universe
becomes you
e.Octupus
No naked eyes can see
it, not
Even God’s, but its
arms have
Reached every human
space
With its innumerable
and
Transparent suction
cups
Each flat like a
blinking screen
Sucking in every word
Until the whole
civilization
Is blackholed once and
for all
That’s when the
digital
Technology goes to
history
Like parchments or
oracles
Spatial Irony
In a large living room
that has long been vacant
Is left behind a mini
answering machine
Crowded with so many messages that
It has no more space even
For a single
syllable…Hi!
Karma Meeting
I don’t know your name
Nor will I get any
idea about
Your age, your family,
your work
Your daily routine or
idiosyncrasy
(Which is irrelevant
anyway)
But I always remember
the muted music
Of your breath, the compressed
smell of your spirit
Especially your blooming
serenity and elegance
Alas how can I ever
forget you did not even
Bother to take a look
at me, although for this
Very meeting, all the
three trillion cells
In my body have been
beseeching
So many stars in the
parallel universe
For the past five
hundred years
To arrange for us to
see each other, although only
Once in a lifetime
While myriads of
raindrops beat against our drums alike
Towards another summer
evening
gongxifacai:
An Idiomatic Chinese Calendar
Rats abandon a sinking
ship
Cows have no business
in horseplay
Tigers die and leave
their skins
If you chase two
rabbits, you will not catch either one
Noble dragons don’t’
have friends
Snakes follow the way
of serpents
A horse may stumble
though he has four legs
A goat owned by two
people sleeps outside
The higher a monkey
climbs, the more he shows his behind
Rooster today, feather
duster tomorrow
Dogs that bark much
don’t bite
A pig’s tail will
never make a good arrow
Unplugging
Disconnect all your
devices
And you will liberate
your senses
Disconnect all your
senses
And you will boast
free spirits
Disconnect all your
spirits
And you will become a
Buddha
2015, 01, 20
Insomnia
Nobody likes insomnia,
but I do
Indeed, for a night or
two, even several
In a run, when there
is no wifely
Disturbance, I would
love to count
Ants against all the
stars in my
Mind, to practice
meditation with
My entire inner being,
to hypnotize
My conscious self by
evoking a streamlet
Of blue water from
heaven and letting it
Infuse every cell in
my body from top to toe
Second by second, to
wrack my brain hard
For the wording of a
line like this one, or more
Enjoyably, to
visualize going alone
To an African forest,
where I constantly wish
To go and die like a
white elephant, until I become
Too relaxed or too exhausted
To remain awake
Word Politician
Granting everyone
makes about
5,000 choices on the
average
Every day, as they say
Who makes most
choices?
Definitely, it is
neither a prisoner
Nor a president, but a
fiction author
Who would choose
thousands of more
Words than others as a
decision-maker
So, you know which
profession
Is most powerful in
this real world?
Freedom of Speech
Fart must be an f- art
Otherwise, it would
not have been
So strictly censored
In every human setting
Oh, (as you often
wish)
For a society where
Everyone can fart
anytime, anywhere
In any way as a truly
free artist likes!
Guilt
I fart at least 15
times a day
Which means I have
been farting
More than 200,000
times
Though no less an enjoyable
Thing for a human to
do
Than eating, farting
has made me
More than a burping
cow
Whose belching clouds
Of methane into the
atmosphere
Have contributed so
much to
The greenhouse effect
Keeping this in mind
How much larger a
space are you going to pollute
Or, rather, how much
more are you going to add
To global warming?
Veni, Vidi, Vici
You sit
You suck
You see
While they lie, they tie,
they die
Dytiscus Larvae: a Dramatic
Scene
One most ferocious
robber in the pond
World, observes a zoologist,
is a slim,
Streamlined insect
called the Dytiscus larvae:
Lying in ambush on a
water grass
He suddenly shoots at
lightning speed
To his prey (or
anything moving or smelling
Of ‘animal’ in any
way, a fat tadpole, for
Instance), darts
underneath it, then quickly
Jerks up his head,
grabs it in his jaws
Injects his poisonous
glandular secretion into it
Dissolves its entire
inside into a liquid soup
And sucks as it swells
up first, and then gradually
Shrinks to a limp
bundle of skin until it finally falls
From his fatal kiss.
Very few animals
According to the
observer
Even when starved to
death would attack
Let alone eat an
equal-sized animal
Of their own species
But the Dytiscus does,
just as man does
Within or without a pond
Trouble
-I never trouble trouble, but it troubles me every day…
A two headed-snake,
yes, it is
Sure to be very rare
in your world
But extremely common in
mine
Like a shadow of my
shadow
Always following behind
me
Whether the sun is
awake or asleep
Ready to bite me with
one mouth
Sizzling around with
another
While its poisonous
breath constantly
Suffocates me before
it is to strangle
My entire being into a
slow death
As I try to get out of
this snakeland
Self-Dating
Ever since you had to
make money
At the cost of your
health and
Character, you have
always avoided
Looking at yourself in
a mirror
Because you feel too ashamed
Too disgusted to meet
yourself
Face to face again,
where you could find
Neither comfort nor
contentment
But ugliness bubbling
in every
Cauldron-like cell of
yours
Now for the first time
I am gathering
All my courage to date
my true self
As I say aloud to
myself in the mirror
‘I love you,’ I see
all kinds of ups
And downs zooming in
my wrinkles, and
Cannot help crying like
a re-found child
Do you remember the many
pains and
Hardships you have
gone through
With this face? Do you
see through this face
The sacred secret of Greater
Love?
Wind-Hater
You don’t know why you
always
Hate the wind, but you
can never forget
How all the topsoil was
blown off
In the big bowl, how
the passenger
Train derailed, the
ship toppled
The cloud dispersed
The stream distorted
The petal broken
The rock weathered
The life dried
The whole country
agitated
The conception
aborted…
As you come to see it
as nothing less
Than the evil spirit
of disturbance
An invisible seasonal spectre
That keeps drifting
around
Between heaven and
hell
Beauty Outside, Beast
Inside
-A Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Waste
When there is no
tomorrow
The happiest place on
earth, or
The last place you
want to go is
At the heart of the
image, where
Between love and
madness lies obsession
When you care enough
to send the very best
Think big, or think
small, for nothing is
Impossible, just as
impossible is nothing
Make believe. Save money,
live better
Eat fresh. Twist the
cap to refreshment and
Reach out to touch
someone
When the world zigs,
zag
Get N or get out.
Expand you mind
Change your world. Fly
the friendly sky
Share moments, share
life.
Let your finger do the
walking
Just do it and have it
your way
If you want to impress
someone
Put him on your
blacklist, as it
Keeps going and going
and going
And make the most of
now
Because you’re worth
it
See what we mean?
East Idioms
Reinterpreted
1/ The Bamboo Image in
His Bosom
Living in a forest of
bamboos, he has
The bamboo image so fresh
and vivid
In his bosom that he
can draw a picture
Of it readily without
having to recall it
2/ The Frog at a
Well’s Bottom
Sitting still at the
bottom of a well
The frog is happy to
watch the patch
Of blue right above
him, believing
It to be the entire
sky there is up there
3/ The Qi-Man Worrying
about the Sky Fallen
With nothing urgent to
worry about
The man of Qi is
haunted by his own
Fear that the sky
above his country
Will fall down at any
moment
4/ The Zheng-Man
Buying His Shoes
Instead of trying new
shoes with his own feet
On the market, the man
of Zheng rushed home
To fetch the
measurements of his feet that he
Believed to be precise
and well-taken
109-word
bio]:: Yuan
Changming, 8-time Pushcart nominee and author of 5 chapbooks (including Kingship [2015]), is the world's most widely
published poetry author who speaks Mandarin but writes English. Growing up in a
remote Chinese village, Yuan began to learn English in Shanghai at the age of
19 and published several monographs on translation before moving to Canada as
an international student. With a PhD in English from the University of
Saskatchewan, Yuan currently co-edits Poetry Pacific with
Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver and, since mid-2005, has had poetry appearing in
1029 literary publications across 34 countries, including Asia Literary
Review, Best Canadian Poetry (2009,12,14),
BestNewPoemsOnline, London Magazine and Threepenny
Review.
111-word bionote]:: Yuan Changming, 8-time Pushcart
nominee and author of 5 chapbooks (including Kingship [2015]),
is the world's most widely published poetry author who speaks Mandarin but
writes English. Growing up in a remote Chinese village, Yuan began to learn the
English alphabet in Shanghai at 19 and published several monographs on
translation before moving to Canada as an international student. With a PhD in
English from the University of Saskatchewan, Yuan currently co-edits Poetry Pacific and runs PP Press with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver.
Since mid-2005, Changming has had poetry appearing in 1029 literary
publications across 35 countries, including Barrow Street, Best
Canadian Poetry (2009,12,14), BestNewPoemsOnline, Cincinnati
Review and Threepenny
Review.
1135. insomnia (2015, 1, 20)
1136. word politician
1137. freedom of
speech
1138. guilt
1139. veni, vidi,
vici
1140. dytiscus
1141. trouble
1142. wind-hater
1143. self-dating
1144. beauty outside
1145. east idioms
–bamboo
1145. e.poching (2015, 3, 6)
1146. universal motto
1147. quantum
entanglement
1148. dream come
true: a frontal poem
1149. shortcut to
happiness
1150. e.Octopus
1151. spatial irony
1152. karma meeting]
1153. Chinese zodiac
calendar
1154. unplugging
1155. soft medium (2015, 3, 18)
1156. human-headed
bird
1157. autumn eve
1158. in the lot
1159. learning about
1160. best regards
1161. yesterday’s
newspaper
1162. writer
1163. your song
1164. rented place is
no home
1165. last words to
hl
1166. contributing to
society
1167. smiling
1168. history reviews: devils (2015, 5, 27)
1169. all you have to
say?
1170. microphone
gaffe
1171. tendency
1172. WIFE
1173. say something,
anything
1174. inner winter
1175. glittering
1176, plenum
1177. bottom line
1178. LIFE
1179. secret of death
1180. don’t miss me, son [2015, 6, 5]
1181. varied feathers
1182. for example
1183. rock vs waves
1184. reconciliation
1185. intimacy vs
independence
1186. neutralization
reaction
1187. basic
calculation
1188. pendulum
1189. miss you dad
1190. icicles
1191. defying
1192. cyberspace
1193. spiritum
1194. bb1: village fashion [2015, 7, 9]
1195. bb2 :secret
tryst
1196. bb3: science
class / snake slough
1197. bb4: frog sale
1198. top 10 sayings
1199. trees in my
garden
1200. zoo
1201. aquarium
1202. bb5: cow-boy
1203. grafting
1204. aubade
1205. bb6: first cut
1206. life and
meaning
1207. sorrow of a lifetime [2015, 7, 28]
1208. with more than
being
1209. attachment
1210. rain cloud
1211. star blinking
1212. hymn of trees
1213. unheard song
1214. prison camp
1215. mark time
1216. pair bond
1217. you have a
dream
1218. bb7: fear of blindness [2015, 8, 19]
1219. bb8: firewood
1220: bb10: first
simile
1221: bb10: drama
acting
1222: seeking among
trees
1223: tea
1224: some
butterflies cannot fly
1225: gravity
1226: situational
irony
1227: disclaimer
1228: yaleugooli
1229: departing
1230: jingzhou pepper [2015, 11, 16]
1231: equanimity
1232: reflection
1233: last visit to my
native place
1234: getting newly
old 2
1235: fish and bird
1236: divided soul
1237: pomegranate
1238: fish at moonset
1239: fallen leaf
1240: socializing
1241: visiting yhq’s
tomb
1243: dusk
1244: cracking
1245: between wake and
dream
1246: new start
1247: another snowfall
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