[weekend walking] On a sunny Saturday afternoon I would lead my inner selfhood Out of my small rented room To the Fraser River Valley Park To let it play with other dogs Running and jumping wildly Catching the ball each time I threw Into the air, the tree shade, the ditch The bank, the water, and sometimes The ridge, where it sometimes stopped and stood Looking beyond the horizon, as if to join the wild Becoming one and the same with the little could Drifting freely around, under the western sky [meditating: a puti poem] Imagine Just imagine Sitting under a tall pipal On a vast stretch of prairies Where you are transformed, transforming Your entire physical being Into the little marigold in front of you Then, the running stream water The gliding bird The drifting cloud The morning light The summer sky Where you are The universe Where the universe Is you [balancing up] Beyond the bay You are the presence Of water Though that is never the geography Once you move You become what is flowing Wherever you stay You join the current (Without overflowing with it) To dissolve into a transparent moment At which your spirit is to reflect While none of us has the cause For staying here You stay To balance things up [loneliness] All feelings are sharable, somehow Except loneliness Loneliness that withdraws you Into your true selfhood Knowingly Like a caterpillar retreating, hiding itself In its own cocoon Where it keeps gnawing at the wall Until it flies out, like a butterfly [break out] During the yard time 3 days ago My inner self finally managed to flee From the prison heavily guarded With the high walls of my yellowish Skin and electrical wires Made of my id nerve endings However, once free wandering In the endless desert nearby, I Felt like a gold fish jumping out of The glass water jug: shall I return To my cell and continue my chained life Or die a free death in the wild open? [fissure] 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 [25th letter] yum yum yummy, you have become so addicted to this juicy alphabet you can readily get high high within your hairless skin as yellowish as the bank of the Huanghe River less sleek than a china crane but more fragrant than a young yucca while its pronunciation can lead you to the very truth you are pursuing, its shape can grow from an unknown sprout into a huge Yggdrasil, where your soul can perch on an evergreen twig, cawing glaringly towards the autumn setting sun Juan Changming published monographs on translation before leaving China. Currently, Yuan edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver. Credits include ten Pushcart nominations, eight chapbooks (most recent one being East Idioms [cyberwit.net, 2020]) & publications in Best of the Best Canadian Poetry (2008-17) & BestNewPoemsOnline, among 1639 others across 44 countries. Lotus Image & License: Depositphotos_32738103_s-2015 |
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