#beijing
I am from inky cities,
From steaming street pancakes and cold noodles.
I am from lonely alleys beyond that dark turn.
(shadowy, quiet,
filled with whispers of cats wild and shabby)
I am from square, paint-dried courtyards,
A secret hideout to breathe in the murmurs of ancient trees,
Only shared with shadow thieves,
Whose yellow eyes glow and ***** tails curl.
I am from the mountain beyond the choking greyness,
From the spot atop the hills where city lights could be seen
In stealthy nights through rain and frost.
I am from candied haws and stinky bean curds,
From chalky evenings
Spent high inside a climbing gym
Wearied, exhausted, inside-out.
I am from the toxic city,
Swarming with masked humans and silenced voices.
I’m from albuterol and Ipratropium bromide,
Sick from the cupboard of budesonide;
Saved again by the sky-blue machine feeding marshmallow clouds
Into my heavy, wheezy lungs.
Upon winter, I travelled far, said farewell to the city
Where ten years of memories lie dusted, submerged.
Thus I am from the serene seal cove and clear turquoise waters,
Where maple drips sweetly and pine needles rain,
From matted red-forest trails like a padded trampoline.
From the realm of black bears, red berries, and duck-duck-goose.
I said goodbye to the Chinese cats and Canadian bears,
And seized my pen to write the rest of my poem–
Because life, as they say,
“Is the art of drawing without an eraser”
Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 2:23 PM UTC
the raised lakes of Beijing
are fitted with the finest glass walls
parents go there to unload their unwanted children
the squids of the lakes grab hold of the children,
hug them
adopt them
teach them to breathe
people walk by, pay no attention
but the glass walls are built tall
wiped clear
to the point where i can’t help but to notice.
the orange plumed tentacles
grown straight from the children’s backs
pulsing like a flame
like a phoenix
like a poppy’s bloom
smeared by the color of the water’s haze
or the tourist’s awe-shot eyes.
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 6:14 PM UTC
look for me
sunday wudaokou afternoon
waiting for the train
waiting for that you
i once knew.
& are you looking
looking too?
and you came
late
for the rain.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 7:33 PM UTC
I thought the cold air would help
But there's only ******* smoke
Free **** I'm living the dream of a million burnt out lungs
with capillaries astray -
Sadness is a comfort
Happiness burns against my eyelids
It sears against the grey -
Age doesn't matter as long as you pay
Head high to keep the nausea at bay;
Visions blur, thought the alcohol in my
backpack somehow took effect
it was just the ******* smoke.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
Bound for lands far in the East
Never have our hands touched
Our eyes barely knew each other
Only a couple of us knew another's name
Fewer recognized our voices
In its Land of Power
As we wandered the grounds
Of a city hoping to earn the winter 5 Rings
We knew joy
We knew laughter
We knew beauty
Unlike what our home lands held
But in our final hours in the city of Beijing
A poison seeped into our morning feast
Which quickly took its toll
A few thousand feet in the Air
As we fell into the city of Western Peace
Our plans became shattered
Few of us barely survived
As our own bodies lost control
We were at the mercy of our own insides
Somehow the two state namesakes were the Worst
Taken to the hospital
If it were not for the group mothers and guides
We would have been among the dead
We saw rolled in front of us
As our medicine was entering our blood
Through needles in our hands
In the midst of what we've come to call
The Xi'an Incident
I saw a glimmer of a rare soul
One full of kindness
Intelligence
And freedom
A type of rare Golden Soul I've come to admire
That lied within the body of the other state
My actions may have been interpreted as
The essence of the White Snake
On some level, maybe it was
But in truth
My gift from Shanghai
To whisper an appropriate goodbye
Was to thank her for pushing me along when times were rough
I am thankful for all that were with me on that trip
And I do hope to see her, and everyone again.
Like I told her in a note I left,
Maybe Hoopa will help make sure
We meet again
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC