Another Hot Day within the Pond One most ferocious robber in this water territory 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 Your Summer 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 Bluish on the Mountain It is neither the smoke Nor the cloud Much less the fog or The mist that you hope to hide yourself from Near the peak; rather, it is Your broken spirits Drifting around as if in search of a more Comfortable residence Away from the darkening valley That are trying to collect themselves From the wind blowing below Through the trees of last summer Seasonal Meeting For the rendezvous The bird has long arrived But where is the wind? Mid-Summer Weekend Saturday Fever. Discotheques. Beers. Marijuana Sweets. Cartoons. Volunteers. Prayers Bathes. Gun shots. Private purple meetings Vampires. Elections. Rest. Clubs. Restaurants Theatres. Picnics. Football. Basketball Billy Crystal. Howard. Cosell. Contests Lady of Fatima. Garden work. Saturn Hiking. Long sleep. Dinner party The best and the worst of the week: Nothing. Everything. Nobody Everybody under Loki’s influence Venture. Venture. Venture, as they Sing, Bobo Waro Fero Satodeh Sunday The first, and the last Of the week. The day Of God, of man We all take today off For a good rest of our bodies To work better for the good Of our souls, or rather The other way around Yuan Changming published monographs on translation before leaving China. With a Canadian PhD in English, Changming currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver; credits include ten Pushcart nominations, the 2018 Naji Naaman's Literary (Honour) Prize, Best of the Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Threepenny Review and 1,449 others across 42 countries.
yuan changming @ Poetry Pacific poetrypacific.blogspot.ca happyyangsheng.blogspot.ca Image & License: Depositphotos_32738103_s-2015 |
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