![]() Pleasure of Solitude I never feel lonely when alone, except Only when I try to get along J.O.Y. J A small cobra coiled In a big pyramid's shape Always read to bite Just like Japan Just like Justice O A rope loop propped up with hope To lasso words running amuck A mouth reshaped, repositioned To pronounce the roundest vowel Y You are haunted by ‘Y’, not because it’s the First letter in your family name, but because It’s like a horn, which the water buffalo in your Native village uses to fight against injustice Or, because it’s like a twig, where a crow Can come down to perch, a cicada can sing Towards the setting sun as loud as it wants to More important, in Egyptian hieroglyphics It stands for a real reed, something you can Bend into a whistle or flute; in pronouncing it You can get all the answers you need, besides You can make it into a heart-felt catapult And shoot at a snakehead or sparrow, as long As it is within the range of your joyful boyhood Inter || Course: the Joy of Reading 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 fu--ed a half-boy Except a real reader Handsome or not Now I got you right in my grasp Oh, please, harder & deeper Youth The nursery rhyme jumps from my aging chest Eager to embrace the changing world with zest Hello, young trees! Hello, summer’s sunshine! How are you all doing along this joyful line? I will resume my old childhood dream I will try this new feature like ice cream I will return to my long lost native place On this planet’s other side to find the face & confess to her as the apple of my eye Pretending I can restart my life, can’t I? Joy of Love: for Qi Hong Each morning I see your smiling face while Video-chatting with you from the other side Of the world, I can smell a beautiful flower bloom Fully from the depth of your innermost being And each time I hear your muted chuckles I feel a breeze blowing though the copse In the backyard of my heart as their twigs begin Trembling against another rising sun While Taking a Shower I can sing like a Pavarotti, a Qian Haoliang, or simply a donkey & no body but myself Can hear my voice. While Taking a shower, I can Rinse off all the dirtiness Inside out as if in a water- Fall from heaven. While Taking a shower, I feel Damn good about myself About God, & even About the whole world “I Win”: An East Idiom Reinterpreted The second he got the news about him wining The prize, he hardly thinks of anything other than I win. He murmurs at the wall, I win he shouts Towards the people in the street; & without Hearing the echo, he picks up the phone & Tells the receptionist that he’s finally won; Mean- While, he posts the news in his ticktok, weixin Moments, facebook, linkedin, integram, defunct Blogsite, totally carried away by the hundreds Thousands, even millions of hits & pageveiws He would receive, until the whole universe becomes Occupied by his thought, every soul penetrated by The message about his win, as if he were the only One chose by God this time, except that like Fan Jin Who passed the provincial examination after dozens Of attempts, he loses his mind together with his voice In thinking too often & too aloud: I win, I win, I win Yuan Changming grew up in an isolated village, started to learn the English alphabet in Shanghai at age nineteen, and published monographs on translation before leaving China. With a Canadian PhD in English, Yuan currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver. Credits include eleven Pushcart nominations, eleven chapbooks (most recently LIMERENCE) as well as appearances in the Best of Best Canadian Poetry & BestNewPoemsOnline, among 1879 other literary outlets across 46 countries. In March 2021, Yuan served on the jury for Canada's 44th National Magazine Awards (poetry category). Lotus Image & License: Depositphotos_3273810 |
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