[Poetry Collection]

By Yuan Changming



Essential of East Philosophy: A Fourword Poem


From

Dao

To

Infinities


 

Mindful Mindset


1/ Here: Into the Reality


You see, here’s the leaf dyed with the full

Spectrum of autumn; here’s the dewdrop

Containing all the dreams made on the

Darkest corner of last night; here’s the

Light pole in the forest where gods land

From another higher world; here’s the swirl

You can dance with to release all your

Stresses against the Virus. Here you are in

Deed as in need embracing

The most

Mindful moment, when you can readily

Measure your feel with each breath, but do

Not think about time, which is nothing but

A pure human invention. Just point every

Synapse of yours to this locale. Here is now


3/ Now: The Art of Living


With my third eye I glaze into

The present moment, & there I find it

Full of pixels, each of which is

Unfurling slowly like a koru into

A whole new brave world that I

Can spend days, even months to watch

As if from

A magic kaleidoscope

 

Thought in Levy Flight


Where’s Allen going? Pacific. Today is Wed. My old

Flame is sleeping, waiting to have her GGN removed

From her lungs to stamp out cancer. Poetry. Something

Good to pop up down the road? No luck is good luck

Choices Market where to work soon until 10:13 pm

A little dark cloud drifting beyond the horizon. Crows

Pandemic. Delta plus plus plus keeps chasing us all

China has closed its doors behind the bamboo curtain

Big paranoid. I cannot to go back to Jinzhou to see

Mom, let alone join Qi Hong & elope with her! Bid-

Den vs Trump in so many ways. The apolitical is way

More politics. Wife is cooking fish again, um, smells

Good. Blue & white & pink noises. Any dark ones?

Tinnitus makes me mad. Whistling. Ah, ppppanda!

Three trillion cells in my body, just as many stars

In the cosmos. Ants, rats, silverfish. Floaters darting

So evasive like hopes. Catch one. Paradise lost


 

All That I’ve Loved Most Dearly: for Helena Qi Hong


When I die at another antlike moment like this

No human crowds would gather to mourn my loss

Nor would anybody really notice my departure

Much less shed tears, even if because of the wind

Yet I am sure trees will shake off their leaves; horses

Will stampede, raindrops will taste somewhat salty

Hills & mountains will all murmur in a muted voice

Above all, Zhuhai will weep under sagging clouds

For it well knows there will be no more human soul

On this planet trying to connect with the city as far

As from beyond the Pacific, so closely & constantly

With its myriad spirited fingers caressing every

Synapse of the neighborhood, the very building

Where you dwell, while poetry cannot help feeling

Empty as if its heart were hollowed by my absence


 

Poetry and Faraway: for Li Lan


Life is not only about gains and pains

But poetry and the faraway it contains


Living in

The opposite sides of this world, with

All the time differences between us, you

Are my poetry and the faraway, just as I

Am yours


 

To Get(her) Together: for Helena Qi Hong


1/ Loveland

As small as the screen of a cellphone

But much larger than the largest continent on earth

This virtual land boasts our private Peach Flower

Garden built with every thought & image digitalized &

Auto-managed by the powerful algorithm of

Love

Yes, deeply lost in this land

Of tenderness, warmth and spiritual intercourse &

Joined rather than separated by the Pandemic

We live deep in the heart of feel, where we forget to

Ask: “Which dynasty is it now outside of our garden?”



2/ Physical Contact


Via weixin, I can see & hear you vividly every day, or

Even every minute on a particular day, but I can

Never touch your fair, soft, rich & smooth skin, smell

Your unperfumed femininity, & taste your

Sun-painted mouth in the shape of a big split cherry

So, at my repeated requests, you snail-mailed me

A hand-written letter enveloped with a lock of your

Undyed hair. Whenever it gets too cold, I can feel

The warmth of your handwriting, digesting your

Tenderness behind the Chinese characters, smelling

Your hair like fresh grass growing after a spring rain

Or from your very thought


 


Yuan Changming, 12-time Pushcart nominee and multiple poetry award winner, is probably the world's most widely published contemporary poetry author who speaks Mandarin but writes in English.


Growing up in an isolated village, Yuan started to learn the English alphabet in Shanghai at age nineteen and authored several monographs on translation before leaving China as an international student.


With a PhD in English from the University of Saskatchewan, Yuan lives in Vancouver, where he edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan. Since mid-2005, Yuan has had poetry appear in 1,959 literary outlets across 48 countries, which include Best

Canadian Poetry (2009, 2012, 2014), the Best of the Best Canadian Poetry (2008-2017), BestNewPoemsOnline & Poetry Daily. Yuan was nominated for & served on the Jury for Canada’s National Magazine Awards (poetry category). In June of 2022, Yuan had his 13th collection released by Goldfish Press. Currently, Yuan is working on his first (hybrid or cultural) novel Edening.