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Spiritual Physics
Few are really aware of
Such universes
Existing beyond our own
Even fewer of so many other versions
Of selfhood living
In each of them, let alone
This simple secret:
At the depth of consciousness
Lives a quantum
Or soul as we prefer to call it
A particle, demon and/or angel dancing
The same dance afar, far apart
In an entanglement
yijing
could mean the book of change
‘runoff sperms,’ ‘already,’ or ‘as
soon as’ in Mandarin sounds, but
here it refers to creative conception
artistic landscape, or literally
meaning scenery, as suggested
in a traditional Chinese painting of
a realm of ink, brushpen and ricepaper, where
a white horse is charging swiftly
across the point of two meeting hills
or a whole mountain range
highlighting itself beside a pine tree
reaching out as if to welcome
visitors, or level against the whole world
as in one of Wang Wei’s poems, Su Dongpo’s
ci, Mao Zedong’s handwritings
Ichthus
Only in Greek can we manage to live, and
Thrive, with almost each civilized mind
Upon the net, where there are more than enough
Chips to fry, to steam or to cook
Rather than on Friday only, we eat
Fish every day, even every hour
Not to honor His heavenly blessings
But to celebrate Peter’s earthly catches
qipao
One-piece of satin
One body and soul, always as a whole
Body-hugging
Hugging tightly with every warm vision
Sleeker than skin
Sexier than sex
Covering every inch of her female charm
With only a narrow crack allowing
To peep, to admire, to imagine, to enjoy
Beauty with oriental rhythm
Let Alone
Man, as he really is, is far beyond
God’s imagination, let alone understanding
If you really love Earth, you wouldn’t be
Afraid to show it to the world, let alone her
Most websites don’t even last fourteen
Months, let alone fourteen years
They never thought they’d be able to do
Any serious reading, let alone thinking
Some people can’t help inventing lies
Let alone telling them
The sun shines on you but not on me
Let alone my shadow
I always expect the world to leave me
Alone, let alone my poetry
Bamboo Leaf
It is true not all purple bamboos can be
Made into flutes, but beside
My dying bed, you can still whistle, with
Any bamboo leaf, even your two bare lips
Just blow these few noisy notes aloud
Into my shrunk innnself:
Success
Happiness
Selfhood
Individualism
Human dignity and, of course
All gone with the wind
Books released by Yuan Changming since Feb. 2026:
1/ Return to Roots (cnf collection, Alien Buddha Press)
https://www.amazon.com/Return-Roots-sketches-southern-Hubei/dp/B0GHNCQRPK/
2/ Towards (novel trilogy; Silver Bow Publishing)
https://www.amazon.com/Towards-Yuan-Changming/dp/1774034158/
3/ Museum of Limerence (poetry collection; ABP)
https://www.amazon.ca/Museum-Limerence-Silver-Romance-Poetry/dp/B0H3FHC6NG/
4/ Bamakoola (poetry trilogy; SBP)
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H6HWLNFB
