[archived]: Poems by Changming Yuan © - 1/2013

Topic Sentences: There Are Snowflakes

that look blue

and never fall down

in the winter beyond the horizon  

sometimes, the lighter the snow

the heavier the notes for the singer

other times, the closer the flakes

the farther the thought for the hunter

hunting

more courageous

than an animal hunter

trying to kill an innocent dear

one hundred yards away, or even farther

with a powerful rifle, you hide yourself

waiting still under a thorny bush

for an entire sullen summer afternoon, just

to shoot a fleeting thought, like a jaguar

with the camera propped up behind your mind

its shutter no bigger than your pen tip

friday: 8 december 2012

above a bushy valley

i rose, without a body

under a sky shining blue

with moonlight, all muted

it is definitely not my imagination, rather

it is my consciousness gathering together

at a transparent, shapeless spot of time, gliding

like a bird along the bank covered with reeds

drifting around until it entered, invisibly of course

a three-storied house walled with dark glass

almost half planted in a big pit, where i met

a group of children, playing hide-and-seek with them

then i retreated through the back window like a smoke

flowing into the air, vanishing into another universe

a vision neither wakeful  nor dreamy

is this ultimate meditation?

Cloth

hung high

            on a pole head

     as a single piece

you are a recognized flag

bound low

            around a stick end

    as a bundle

you are called a mop

in essence, you are nothing more

            or less than artificial fabric

    originally meant to keep a lonely body warm

or cover human privacy

                        shameful or otherwise

water of life

            sweet is

the spring water, and

    crystal-clear

            are the mountain dews

but flowing through our hearts

            is a fluid 

as salty as seawater

            like sweat, like tears

photographying

with my oriental eyes

            black and white

i try to capture the entire world

      with a yellowish camera

hidden between yin and yang

my inner film is more colorful

    than the picture itself

the chinese painter and the viewer

between your brush tip

            and mountain top

you seek eternity in the blank

            while i am lost

    among thick patches of ink 

my crow

after so many years

            the white crow

    i had been keeping as a pet

            finally flew away

without a single moment

                        of hesitation

through the back window

            blown open

by a gust of wild wind

                        last night

into the storm of

            black snowflakes

    falling down

            right from heaven 

cornered

            is a cross-shaded space

where two walls

    two streets

    two lanes, two views

    two pairs of lips

    two naked souls

            meet each other

face to face

    confronting

            compromising

                  or comforting

meditating

            looming between light

and shadow, flowing between skin

                        and soul

is a shale of shale

    of consciousness

            all bursting spiritual energy

pure, inexhaustible

ready to be explored

y

            yea, yeah, yes, with your

yellowish skin, you enjoy

      meditating within the shape of

a wishbone, inside the broken wing

            of an oriental bird strayed, or

in a larger sense, you look like

    the surfacing tail of a pacific whale

            who yells low, but whose voice reaches afar

far beyond a whole continent, to a remote village

    near the yellow river, where you used to sunbathe

            rice stems, reed leaves, cotton skeletons

with a fork made of a single horn-shaped twig

            when you were a barefooted country boy

                        on the other side of this new world

is this the reason for your obsession with the letter?

perpetual motion in f major

like a little

            diaphanous cloud

      drifting around, along the borderline

                        between sea and sky

my consciousness, evaporated

      from the swamps of my mind

keeps floating in the sky, never falling down

            even on a humid summer afternoon

shark

i was using my little spear   

you were using your mighty jaw

            and prey was the prize of our pride

i missed mine, you missed yours

but neither of us could stop

            within the range of another range

like a satellite far beyond, far above

                                    along its orbit

parcenary

                        my destination was preset

you will receive a parcel

            by express.  It turns out

all too expressly, and

the sender was my parents

        who had wrapped themselves

                        inside already

the past

            like a shadow

your past follows you

      everywhere, ever silently

remaining visible whenever

                        you walk in light

the deeper the sun sets, the more

                        enduring your past becomes

      unless you get lost

            in a starless night

the moving spirit

                        the bird is flying

so high in the sky, its wings

            become as blue as heaven

      its belly grey

                        as a cloud

the blue bird

      vanishes soon into heaven

but the grey forgets

                        it is part

            of a presence

embedded in the scene

then nothing could occupy

            that space, and

      remain there forever

ephemeral

above the vast prairies

            a little subject

leads a compound predicate

                        flying behind

like a flock of wild geese, through attributives

      and adverbials, all drifting around

            along the horizon, where an unknown object

                                    is gliding

in parallel to an appositive

      as if to join the vanishing point

of a foreign language, where

            all syntactic elements pass by swiftly

[the information age]

far beyond the dark mountains

deep in the virgin rain forest

there is not a single human being

not even a sheltered animal

except piranhas, sun bears

and an email message recently caught

on the web of a shiny spider...

[point of view]

no, no, no

no more do i want to be

a chinaman, brown-visioned

with all my yellowish

outlooks, yellowish sentiments

nor do I intend to be

a red-skinned big-foot

with my ancestors' vast land

all occupied by foreign devils

nor a rising black star

with evil pale-faced memories

nor a big white boss

with all his politically correct dollars

rather, I prefer to be a tiny rock

sitting still at a hilltop, on the roadside

watching, observing, or even

whistling when there is a wind blowing hard

[cloning]

with a stem cell newly pecked out

of the largest wishbone of

a keatsian nightingale

you have developed a brand new bird

whose wings are feathered

with voiced strips, all parallel

to the sound waves of

a humpback whale, calling aloud

from the heart of the pacific

[broken spirits]

fluttering, like little

black birds, they are shredded

shadows swept away silently

from the bright spot

on the tall human stage

[harmony between man and nature]

never have I achieved anything with a shape

through sheer luck, be it a couple of sons

a bunch of houses, or a whole shelf of poetry

so, I am finally unlucky enough

to buy a hundred-million-worth lottery

with a single found loonie, eh?

[the paradox about dr L]

high is my profession, even

higher is my office, and the very

highest is my income, though

my family name is low

my medical art is lower

and my mind is the lowest

[confession of a family doctor]

oh my lord, no longer do I remember

the exact wording of my oath

(that may well contain

the phrase 'relieve suffering')

but I am still keenly aware of

my ever high-sounding profession

which I had to lie to enter in the first place:

I volunteered at nursing homes and

community centers, not because

I really had a loving heart. but because

I needed that to be impressive

on my resume, on my application

to the prestigious medical school

now often do I claim to cure everything

though nothing in reality, I pretend to be

nice, polite and caring, thought tired of all that

I never put my patients' health before profits

not because I fear to be black listed

but because I think I deserve more than I gain

let the patient get sick, better bleed

so I can give pills or send them

to hospitals, where my partners can

get at him, with knives or more pills

[song of the past]

neither do I know from whom

I learned this simple song

nor do I recall the lyrics

but I do remember its melody

whenever I hum it in my heart

every note rings perfectly right

however, each time I try to sing it aloud

the song sounds different at my mouth

as if the utterances were pumped out

of the tongue-tight throat of a bull frog

yes, both the words and notes have faded

but the descant still remains familiar

to the inner ears of my boyhood

[the sun lost]

hiking alone, along

an untrodden mountain ridge

I picked up a lost sun

hoping to find its master

above twilight, I shorted aloud

towards the valley that lies far below

where my echo falls to deaf ears

where nobody seems to care

about this doomed fallen sun

[chinglish signs]

postcard mono plize [postcard store]

mobile phone electrizing [battery charge]

the road const ructino, please round to go [construction / detour]

adult care, condom, sexcare [sex shop]

please be well seated and always make yourself safe [buckle up]

please don't make confused noise when chanting [no noise during recitals]

excution in progress [construction ahead]

slip and fall down carefully [wet / slippery]

do drunken driving [no drinking and drive]

[menopause]

rusty, worn out with years

your socket does not welcome

my plug as before

otherwise, there would be

a total breakdown

instead of a short circuit

[meditating in marpole]

you hear him listening to the song

of another universe...

discordant ecstasy as you visualize

before he wakes up

to the flowering of lilac

in his front yard

after the hibernation

[reflecting]

with her young and pretty reflections

she wipes the mirror at least ten times a day

but how come you never look at your self

in a mirror – is it too old and dusty?

[communicating]

you keep dreaming during the day

with your inner antennas

reaching high into another universe

as if to receive signals

from gods and ghosts

who have fallen into the same channel

it's kind of like watching tv

[globalization]

father smuggled himself

into usa

like a trafficker

son was invited

to the country

as an investment immigrant

was too nervous

to declare his net worth

father made the money by selling drugs

son washes it white with stinking stocks

[thought hunting]

stalking behind it

i sneaked into the thick forest

where it suddenly vanished

i did not know when, even whether

it would reappear at all

lying long in ambush

at the heart of silences

i became increasingly aware

the jungle has no prey in the first place

except hunting per se

[reflecting afar from canada]

far beyond the horizon

in the ricefield of my soul

amid green leaves

reach out ears, full ears 

of golden verse

pick up a pen

reap the midsummer

of your fatherland, together

with your native folks

and store it in the barn

of your mothertongue

[seabird] 

As if right from heaven

A snowy fledgeling seagull

charges down

Trying to peck up the entire ocean

With its bold beak

As the tsunami raises

Myriads of its fists

In sweeping protection 

Against earth’s agitation

In foamy darkness

Where on the beach

No one seems to be

Standing, watching

[partnership]

you'd better keep

your partner

at

an arm's length

otherwise, you would be scorned

like a cheap potato

or hated

like a tyranny

[tender night]

in the darkness

a tulip bloomed alone

at the front yard of

my poem, in the shape

of blood-stained throat

it began to smile

with all its tenderness

behind the budding lyrics

of early april

this is perhaps why

night has become

even tenderer

since keats's time

[thought surfing]

as if on a huge herd

of water buffaloes

stampeding, surging

against the horizon, he

kept surfing towards

the rising sun, lightly

on a bluish idea

more naked

than his body and soul

[vice versa]

yin works towards yang and vice versa

men desire to fuck women and vice versa

consciousness dwells with body and vice versa

phenomenon embraces essence and vice versa

when price goes up, demand goes down and vice versa

man creates god but not usually vice versa

most people slave for money but not usually vice versa

thought controls technology but not usually vice versa

dogs bite humans but not usually vice versa

[secant]

you are as straight

as a beam of sunlight

she is as curvy

as the surface of earth

when you intersect her like a meteorite

hitting our planet, another species could

die out, or come into being

around the touching point

[y]

yum-yum, you seem to

have become addicted

to this alphabet, nothing but a plain letter

though it may sometimes get you high

high with your skin-colour

as yellowish as the bank of the Yangtze River

as young as a Yankee heart

while its sound can lead you

to the truth you are seeking, its shape

can grow into a huge yggdrasil

where your soul can perch

cawing towards the setting sun

[self-expressing]

from glaciers

of the arctic syntax

words keep melting, trickling

into a stream, constantly

trying to express themselves

through the ebbs

in a lake, or a river

as they flow down the valley

to join the sea

[heavy traffic]

as words collide against one another

violently, they get both the drivers

and passengers injured or killed

even the pedestrians will get

stained with blood

as if during the rush hour

[saturday evening]

no matter how, or

how far

you throw it away

over the ridge

into the water

your mind will get it back to you

like a well trained dog

as loyal as playful

as ever

[self-expanding]

this is not anger

but with my yellowish chest

keeps expanding a new space

until another big bang

forms a whole new cosmos

right then, my blood and flesh

will become constellations

of new stars and planets

while my soul fulfils all the spaces

in the universal blast

[fantasy]

every one of us has a little fantasy

that has turned our heart

into a nasty nest, where there is

a fledgeling crow

keeps flapping its wings

against the morning fog

hoping to fly up high

towards the rising sun

someday, somehow

[at the harbor]

all boats have returned

some with full loads of sardines

others with shrimps

still others with more or less

jellyfish, baby sharks, sea urchins

except the only one that I have been waiting for

is still not seen, like an island

as if forever anchored

at the edge of the continental shelf

though not far

beyond the horizon

[h's heart]

not unlike a lost cat

her heart is ready to stalk

behind the walking shadow

of the first angler it happens to see

on an empty street

who always has

a few leftover baits

in his fishy basket

while returning home

[die there, or liver forever]

like the little bee

caught within

the sticky tree sap, whose corpse

preserved the bacteria, surviving

to be revived

millions of years later

as the sap fossilized

becoming a piece of amber

your inspiration was

isolated, enclosed

in the body

of a poem, the instant

you lifted your broken pen

hoping it would be

discovered by someone

like the amber

[humans & nuclei]

just like two nuclei

moving closer together

whose mutual electrostatic potential energy

becomes larger, more positive

yin and yang always try

to reach a higher balance

as they join each other

at a shaded corner

in a rented room

on an open range, even

in a whole universe

[sh-]

listen, listening to

the snowflakes falling heavily

from an unknown sky, to the tulips

blooming close to a fallen fence, to

the sunlight dancing swirly on

the lakewater, to the shadows

invading a brand new territory under

the moon, to the thunders rolling around

in a spring dream, again, you will hear

not only the melody of the season

but also the whispers from the other world

so strictly parallel

to yours, and mine

[immigrating]

walking around

around the corner of a back lane

I used to carry my yellowish identity

as carefully as if it were a big piece

of glass, through which I could see

others or myself, only if I chose

to do so, but on a hasty afternoon

I tripped down, and

smashed it into hundreds of

small and sharp pieces; since then

my shredded selfhood has become a big

public nuisance, a traffic hazard

as it glistens glaringly under the sun, cutting

tires or human feet, from time to time

Red

seeing the strange belts

like little mouth masks

hung on bamboo poles

I often wondered:

what kind of clothing was that

so funny looking

in front of almost every straw-thatched cottage

but you boys don't bother about that

until one of my aunts told me

on a showering afternoon

it was only until I began dating

with a girl in a major city, so close

to beijing many years later

did I get to know them 

to be no other than menstrual rags

(a taboo of human blood?)

although they actually looked

more like shrunken flags

than thick masks

that's all I remembered about my boyhood

my native village, my motherland

Black

coal, ebony, charcoal

crow, graphite, lactrodectus

chinese hair, african skin …

what do they all have

in common? - they are not

a color; rather, they are an absence of light

which becomes weaker and weaker

as stars keep moving farther and father

away from us

filled with light

within their dark shapes

they are quiet, but cool

and profound

Yellow

as rich as old as the soil

from the qingzhang plateau

as long as endless as the water

from the huanghe river

as appealing as common as rapeseed

as smooth as ripe as banana skin

as noble as shiny as gold

as full as tender as egg yolk, and indeed

does this color suggest any peril

in or by nature?

Blue

is, needless to say

the most powerful civilization; built

with the two pupils

of a caucasian blonde

between sea and sky, where

it has been permeating, where

it has prevailed

but until where? 

Orange

this is the most affordable color

since everyone can readily

get it by shedding blood upon gold

by staging a revolution

along the Yellow River, by smashing

rapeseed into roses, or simply

by chewing a chili heart

together

with mango flesh

white

out of thick clouds

like mountains of inflated cotton

high above spring fog, much

lighter than the snow of last year

a biblical dove flies, soaring around

as if unable to find a place

to perch on land, where reed flowers

grow tall in the fields of salt, where

ivories float around

in rivers of milk

while no pale surface is taking in any light

all colors gather into a blank filled with flour

slaked lime, or aging hair just to reflect

a whole living civilization

Green

with the same word root as 'grass' and 'grow'

you are the only living color in the entire universe

most nutritious to the human vision, you possess

both the noblest pine tree and cheapest grass

along the trail through the forest of olive

your treading upon the season sounds like jade...

Grey

isn't it the most mediocre color

between black and white

that is engulfing every paved road

every naked building, even

every human soul

like ashes to ashes?

Violet

you have degraded yourself

from the royal to the common

just as yang red has faded

into yin blue

like gray

between black and white   

[far vs near]

When I set off at dawn

On a morning lost long ago

Heaven seemed way too far

Far beyond the road’s end

Even farther than my boyish dream

Now so very tired, tired of

Travelling alone all the time

On this less trodden trail

I have finally found heaven

As close as the tree on the roadside

[fare-well, darling: to h]

On that evening, as our titanic

Finally began to sink, how I desperately

Combed our whole boat

To find you the only lifebuoy aboard!

But when I returned empty-handed

I saw you struggling fiercely

In the water of cold night

Already far beyond my reach

[With the ring hidden beside your arm]

[at the vancouver harbor]

Fully loaded with feelings, some

 thoughts are approaching, slowly

Other waiting at a close range

And still others sneaking away gracefully

From the seashore

All like bulky barges

Except a few whims

Looking so deplorably

Small in figure, but keep

creating fierce foamy waves

On the windless evening, as they

Shuttled around

Like tugboats

[the bird in the English bay]

Sometimes, you prefer to swim alone

In the blue, where

You have the whole ocean

Beneath your wings

Other times, you enjoy gliding

On the blue, where you

Have all the sky

Above you head;

Occasionally, you dive

Long and deep,

As if into your own thought

Where you seem to be trying

To catch a fish, or a wave foam

More as a game than for a meal

You never care about my loneliness

As I struggled

To share your joy of solitude

[pursuing]

Here is the persistent pursuit of a bone chip

Hung right above the nose of the ravenous

Dog as it runs amuck, as well as another

Pursuit of an exotic seed by the west wind

That keeps blowing to catch , to throw it

Into the voiceless reality, and another pursuit

Of an innocent deer trying to gain an inch

Of freedom from the claws of an African lion

Or the pursuit of the sun by the legendary Kuafu

Who ran all the way along the Yellow River

To the very edge of the world, for a reason

No one has ever been able to tell, even today

And here’s another pursuit of a thin whim

shuttling around like a crazy owl in the jungle

A pursuit of a shapeless cloud in a forgotten sky

And another pursuit of quasi happiness you yearn to

Embed into the frame of a painting like Munch’s Scream

The pursuit that can be transmitted onto a colored screen

Like yin always trying to join yang, or vice versa

In a parallel universe, the pursuit of metaphors

Behind the thought, now more persistent than ever

[y!]

You are really haunted by this letter

Yes, since it contains all the secrets of

Your selfhood: your name begins with it

You carry y-chromosome; you wear

Y-pants; both your skin and heart are

Yellowish; your best poem is titled

Y; you seldom seek the balance between

Yin and yang; you never want to be a

Yankee, but you yearn to remain as

Young as your poet son; in particular

You love the way it is pronounced, so

Youthfully, as a word rather than a letter to

Yell out the human reasons; above all

Your soul is a seed blown from afar, always

Y-shaped when breaking the earth to greet spring

[!]

More like a roman mace aimed

Right at a human head

Than like a chinese brushpen

Dripping black ink when held straight up

You were born with joy, but has grown

To be the vaguest bang in today’s world:

Without a written explanation, or a

Tangible situation, no one knows if you

signal warning, surprise, anger, hatred

Happiness, love? yes, or no?

Indeed, no one can tell when the emotion is

The strongest, when the mark stands

Totally on its own, or beside another letter

[?]

Supposedly, a lightning flash

Striking from right to left

Or a lower-cased q as in question

Trying to stand up on an o

But can it be a crescent moon

Broken by darkness, a smashed star

Falling from the summer sky

Or a hook never able to catch

A lost soul that hopes to

Find an answer voiced

From a human mouth?

[…]

A lapse of the mind

An omission in the human utterance

A gathering of feeling

All dotted

[a modest proposal]

Always towards the sun, and

Keep flying like a satellite

Your heart will leave far behind

Not only the shadow of your soul

But all the darkness of this world

Although your body may still be straddled

On the beach of night

My Photo

Tightly embedded

Within a metal frame

Is my poor soul

Sitting high 

Against the wall

Like a stuffed owl

I know how I will spend days and nights

Of my posthumous life there

Watching my children walking

Into their little living room

Or out of it

Manipulating the Time

If on a Sunday afternoon

You really have nothing

Better to do, try this:

Fold every quarter of an hour

Into an airplane, a rocket

With the front page

Of new york times

Or china daily, and set it off

Far into the twilight before

Headlines begin to fade, complaining

About being bent, the same old stories

Crying out of pain, and all the innocent

Words falling apart, like children

Bombed by a killer monster flying by

In the Reading Room

You try to explode your self

Into myriads of pieces, adhering to

All the books on the shelves

With your flesh and blood

To cover the printed meaning

Of life, between or beyond

The words, if any at all 

Be that as it may

You shall

She can

They ought to

We’d better

It must

He would rather

One has to, or

I will

Still stand to speak

e.age

rather than screaming

at the top of your voice

on a broken bridge

like Munch, you prefer to

take a shower under

the electrofall deep

at the valley, somewhere

in the cyberspace, as if hypnotized 

while you become baptized

Metaphor

with a big bang, the stage of the world

comes to the spotlight, where a shepherd

lay down for his sheep first, and

then all actors and actresses

flooded in, shuffling

between their exits and entrances

as religions, arts and science grow

from the same tree; where

souls are washed away

from the dust of human life; where

the crumbs of words fell down

from the feast of the mind, screen pages

are filled with breathings of the heart; and

every movement of the cursor

leads a fish biting at the hook

within this vast scene, we try to look at ourselves

beyond the entire picture

Simile

as hope grows like the twinning vine

she becomes as snug as a bug in a rug

when they compare thee to a mid-summer day

you feel happier than a tornado in a trailer park

while the highest goodness resembles water

your lines look similar to chinese chopsticks

Hyperbole

white hair longer

than the yellow river

warm tears higher

than a tsunami

li bai grins as broadly

as the universe itself

while his words echo loud, louder

than the summer thunder, as if

to emulate an erupting volcano

to challenge God’s warning

Anthropomorphism

with the sea smiling widely

with every wrinkle open

towards the morning sun, the trees balletting

in the storm of summer, the birds

chatting aloud, indeed, all is well

as God is taking a nap, dreaming

about becoming a human

both in form and in mind, where

nature imposes itself as a wild urchin

and the whole cosmos is expanding

from a past concept into its present body

that’s how we approach the world in our own terms

first, and last

--------------------

Metonymy

give me the floor

lend me your ears

donkeys and elephants

as a pen for the press

is much mightier than a sword

from waterloo, it’s high time not

to spill out all your life in Hollywood

and march towards the white house

on the red carpet

by the sweat of your brow

while the kettle is still boiling

this is the best tip for

all crowns

-----------------------

Oxymoron: Love Is A 

faith unfaithful that keeps you

falsely true to yourself, like

yinyang seen through with

mournful wisdom, at the very moment of

violent relaxation, while the

guest host stands

alone in a crowd, presenting herself in

dark night, among the

sounds of silence, to give a speech about this

sweet agony as a necessary process in

virtual reality: yes, we all

agree to disagree that

we love humanity, but loathe persons; isn’t that

American culture?

-----------------------------

You Need Night

Yes, you do need night

When darkness engulfs half

Of the world, and makes you pause

For you need a stable universe of time

To reflect on light that guides you

Through the unseen, as through your thought

Surely, in this black and heavy stillness

You can see the brilliant colours

Above the entire season, you may even dream

Here you can dissolve into a big whole

Like yin and yang, to nail your souls into

Each other’s flesh, to gain strength

Yes, you simply need night

For you need this unique reality of our world

To pause, to recover, to discover

Information Explosion

You dived into the screen

swam towards a title

With the cursor

And ran into a crowd

Of lonely words

Trying to jump

Out of the virtual reality

Where you forgot to remind them

The local network is temporarily

Disconnected, broken down

----------------------

Moving

As I flopped about, not unlike a foolish fish

Thrown into a coffin, I noticed my western neighbor

Begin to move his belongings out of his dwelling

With masks and costumes of foreign gods as well

As native ghosts all left in a nightmarish mess

Then, behind my dilapidated garage, I heard

The old skeletal couple giggling secretly, saying

How delicious the grey matter they had just

Sucked from the brains of newborns, and how

Too salty some celebrities’ semen and menstruation

Wondering why everyone seemed to be moving now

I found my eastern neighbor jump wildly, busy setting fire

On their new monster house, apparently to burn or

Destroy all the aliens, robots, hygenas, wolves of war

They had been keeping as pets, which often ran astray

In the dead heart of a stormy night, I have no idea

About where I can locate my soul for some rest

---------------

Yard Sale

A whole box of human hearts, each

Still beating fresh like skinned toads

Two rows of shiny skeletons of unknown gods

All fingers longer than legs, toes bigger than skulls

Three sets of knives, blades extremely blunt

With evil spirits and devilish impulses

Four giant alarm clocks, making thunderous noises

Waking up all dead from as many directions

Five bottles of wine filled with soaked souls

As colouful as the rainbow above the styx

Can I just have the reddist heart please?

Sure, it’s free

Autumnal Change

With its fluttering chilly fingers

The west wind plucked out every leaf

Living or dead, from the growth

Of the passing summer, while flowers

Remained there in the open

Not in shape, but in spirit

As the season put a fashionable hairstyle

On top of every tree

All so trendy