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Latest blog posts

[Lotus Seedpod Men]

In water-caltrop raiment clad, with belt of floating-heart,
you dwell in faerie wonderlands.
Such lush jade-green, your perfumed hue –
tho’ wind may cease, its fragrance yet expands.
Egrets’ reflections grace the pond no more,
only the autumn wind’s soughing, a soughing so glum.
Alone, but for the rush flower, you bear the nocturne wake
and await the heavy dew that with the morn with come.
With greasy make-up swept away,
true character takes form!
Red garments loud, stripped off, display
strength of a subtler norm!
Live up to what Lianxi said:
stand up “pure, straight and tall”.
Follow not the withered leaves
in chilly ponds to fall!

-Lu Xun, 1900

Published: August 24, 2006 | Comments: 1

elegies on space

on the edge of the world
between the glass light
“terrible, terrible,”
he says, while fishing with
a pole, in plain sight of the
beast who lives
on the edge of the world


the men who sing, the man who sleeps
between the covers of night and day,
who recounts the days in flights and rakes
the earth with only his wake


troubled mimes, incessant chimes, / the irony of the moon outside of time.

I sit among the rubble of / a tree unfleshed, bare and brown, / and recite the memory of the jungle / with a crown on my head, / ensnared to the ground


a sweet lullaby, loosely played / upon a lyre of ruined waves, / dead against the pale stone shore, / they lie alone, drawn without care, / fraught upon a dream of dearth, / wishing upon a reddish hearth


sliver, silver, memories of ice, / casting down their truancy of price, / we cast our crowns into the sky, / understanding nothing except the lies: / they speak to us in tones as soft / as heart-felt moons left alone too soon


cascades, torrential waterscrapes, / flooding among the valleys of noon, / madness descending, upon a calm lake, / the boat in the middle, the fisherman with his pole: / “oh dearie dear, my fearlie fear, come to me, / upon this midnight clear, sincerely yours, / the Mariner,” / he says upon his boat of gold, / although it is not gold he is so bold, / and as he sinks into the drown / he fits a knot into his scowl, / and cries to the clouds in a loud, loud voice: / “I am not dead nor ever was, / fear me world, if you canst know how!”


where are the ravens? / where are the crows? / where are the birds that roost in my toes? / can you not see them? / can you not see? / are your eyes so blind as you smell rosemary? / I carry on flightily, / singing on mightily, / rarely unaware of my trespass fortnightily, / yet scarce do I know / of that terrible hole, / in which lies the greatest of lies, / that all men are liars, / and I am the bride


my heroes sleep in castles not found, / hidden in the depths of time unsound, / they pound and pound the terrible town / and wake the memories under the ground, / but here I lay, my bones on the earth, / my mind in the clouds, / my heart filled with mirth, / and wakefully I dream of time’s better seen, / of heroes in castles, / asleep on the green


Published: August 9, 2006 | Comments: 5


Pearls, I grasp,
sitting on a pale-flesh beach.
The sun is a lion,
talons reaching into the clouds.
I feel below the sand;
there is a hint of sadness there.
Memory, she says to me,
is but a hope for dead dreamers.
She is the sun;
golden, fragrant, world weary.
My love for you wanes with the moon,
she says to me, her voice a silk cord,
bound in wild and delicious colors.

The waves rush toward us.

Published: July 20, 2006 | Comments: 4

Paper on Jovian Strings

More’s the more,
rain falling through the cracks,
serendipity calling through the
eyes of a transparent fallacy.

He stands there, his unblinking stare arrayed against a circuit board of trees; the little people mimic each other, crying for help. They wring their hands, tears fall from their cheeks, bombs blow off inside their heads; smoke pours out of their eyes.

Reality is a sway,
rain falling through the cracks,
the darkness beneath the streets
moving in slow motion,
those intrepid gypsies like moths
before a paper lampshade.

Published: July 19, 2006 | Comments: 0