Revolutions
Full sick I am,
heart like a stamped upon grape,
head lost in the backwaters
where regret dwells like ancient pike
eager to feast.
I have lost the path.
I have sundered the light.
I have become my father
in the eyes of my son!
Full sick I am,
juices dried up,
thoughts a pack of barking dogs
fighting over my bones.
I have failed the test.
I have embraced the dark.
I hear my father’s voice
as I shout at my son!
Full sick I am,
tired to the core,
shedding tears at night
while my son sleeps -
wanting to embrace him
promising to manage things better
and knowing
it is not easy to untangle knots
woven in me
years before
my son ever saw the light of day.
Danny Fahey
The Kingsbury Tales: the storeman’s tale
In Kingsbury, when summer is not yet available
And spring is but another season of pollens or hua fen
In the lead up to
An occasion
That makes the warehouse storeman
Increasingly uncomfortable
As he prepares for
More Christmas sales and boredom
The longer I stay, he says
In this country
The stupider I grow
If you know what I mean
Money made us
Us made money
And money made money
I hated ballet dancing
But when I started
I was only 5
And made my way
To the top
Then I quit
At 20
For this is a profession
You eat youth rice in
You have to be young
In it
To make it
Or else
You become a storeman
Like me
Or a stockbroker
Like Cunxin or Tsunhsin
Keeping Faith
Is never part of the deal
The important thing is keep your kids alive
Ouyang Yu