The Prison Of The Past
The prison of the past by Mirela Sula I escape from the prison of the past Haunted by illusions gone awry Filled with accusation against own self There I go to enjoy the air of renewal Desire Touches me To seduce me Pushes me To regain myself again Released Like a […]
The Dead Woman
If suddenly you do not exist, if suddenly you are not living, I shall go on living. I do not dare, I do not dare to write it, if you die. I shall go on living. Because where a man has no voice, there, my voice Where blacks are beaten, I […]
Pathos Is The Skyward Tanka
pathos is the skyward tanka by Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé a mother swathed in muslin scavenging, rubble behind the sea of biscay a burned down house on a mound a bargain respect, absent what was us, what was sweet home lost to an ornery sound shanks pressed into the pallid […]
Nominalism Is A Liquid Kuhi
nominalism is a liquid kuhi by Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé solomonic column, white scraped clean of spirals here lies a similar name safe, lamp-lit passage maybe tomorrow, a shine as a flute flourished flushed garlands atop, around us wet down, barley sugar too extravagant with hope? frugal enough […]
Dear Bhikkhu A Eulogy
dear bhikkhu: a eulogy by Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé what will you will to endure, bhikkhu? what will you remember, twenty lake days saffron robe to keep out the cold, keep out the stares keep off the wax moths and blinding light? watering hole no lodging, jeta’s grove like amber […]
As With A Senryu S Hardening Ridge
As with a Senryu’s Hardening Ridge by Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé jalousie windows open six months of chill as welcome as five years, seven inflections precise, scaled dots dropping off and the rubbing out of the fire in the hole flailing legs like broken twigs lost torso in grass – […]
A Gogyohka And The Forgotten Panopticon
A Gogyohka and the Forgotten Panopticon by Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé There, a quiet remembrance – thin walls, colloquium volte-face, inversions the same mirrored shine and glass so we sleep better slipping naked under sheets roster-retractions and altercations and always inward-looking the way your pulse races up percussive, a […]