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Tanka
 

 

 

Chen-ou Liu, CA

 

between my hands
there is a physical urge
unruly
inside my heart
the shadow curls up crying

 

 

the shadow claimed
I was the sun and will be
again
for I am not going away
I've lived underground since

 

 

they cut out
half of his inside
filling him
with the chemicals, the pain...

she pounds the table, I want...

 

 

I wake
from the Taiwanese song
mother hummed
decades ago

autumn rains on the roof

 

 

moonlight
spills over her body
once again
my fingers follow
her curve into dawn

 

 

Ozymandias…
in wind-blown sand
I write my poem
where it's read, revised
and then erased

 

 

you are a verb
transitive, on the move
I am an adverb
wondering where to go...
what shall our subject be?

 

 

blinded
by blazing winter sun
I hide
behind closed eyes, reading
the weight of each passing face

 

 

Marry me
today and every day
Mary...

he flies a blimp
over a rooming house

 

 

its lone face
stares out from behind glass
steamed
from panting...
are we kin to each other?

 

 

my mind
emptied of thoughts
opens
closes
as autumn gusts blow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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