Chen-ou Liu, CA

 

 

Haiku Noir   last night’s distant howling follows me... a column of smoke dark clouds gathering a man sets himself on fire outside the bank noonday sun a wooden cross burning in his front yard new scar on his neck her eyes cut my question into small talk autumn rains beat on the window pane... a leg twitching shattered harvest moon... a James Bond car nosedives into the lake a boat's siren blowing far out to sea— watch on the sand changing the blade of my razor ... her baby-like skin a bag of cherries crushed on the dirt road ... red shoes the twigs snap— a silhouette motionless washing an apple over and over and again... leaden sky he mutters I am the son of God... moonlit barred windows distant sirens... she can't stop laughing by his body playground laughter... in a restroom stall a baby left blood on the wall the stench of cheap perfume lingering… she slits her wrist lying down in a warm bath... hazy winter moon bedroom mirror again, I see the face in The Scream (Note: A haiku noir is a narrative haiku, a dark flash non/fiction in verse where filmic/cinematographic techniques are employed).     Tanka   like a silkworm spinning its cocoon I wrap my grief-stricken heart with words and imagery     hunter's moon rises over the attic night blankets my fallen dreams... their twisted mutters     with the rope of my unpublished poems I hang myself in a rooming house filled with windowless nights     another holiday alone in the attic a fly batters itself restlessly against the sunlit window     startled pigeons fill the autumn sky... thoughts of her dart across my mind like tongues of fire     a raven perches on the white cross by the roadside of Highway 401... summer clouds fleeting     a butterfly beats its wings on the window... I blanket my one-week-old tanka waiting for summer rain     she and I now speak different languages but sleep in the same bed.... what was and what is an ocean apart     I can't open my eyes in spring sunlight can you, Issa? this floating life is a dream without you     long day's work... the Chinese takeout brings the steamy smell from Mom's Taiwan kitchen to my Ajax attic     Tanka Prose   You Are My Resting Place   Tomorrow, my birthday, age of forty. Shut in the attic. My shadow swaying back and forth on the wall. for the moon alone waiting in drunken silence ... His shadow springs beside me in every memory     Being-in-the-World   day by day I get up, eat, read, write and sleep— my mind grows grayer with each night's dream “What is human life?” I once asked my philosophy professor. I didn’t get a satisfactory answer then, and don’t have one even now. It is commonly believed that human life is like a blade of grass that sprouts in early spring, grows green and strong in summer, and then, as time slips by, withers in late autumn, and finally dies out in winter. I stare at the sun steadily seeing Death wave to me I wave back and start writing     Monostiches   the chime recites my poem caught by a summer breeze my poem fluttering against autumn gusts a 7-11 store in Chinatown time is a passing guest of Yukon gazing upon hairy bamboo sheaths girls giggle winds howling ghostly pasts embrace the empty moon Shenzhen workers lining up ants hurry westwards gazing upon the newborn poem I trace its birthmark with my nose cutting the cord I let my poem breathe alone the poem screams at me, The author is dead I dream of the poem taking refuge at my breasts     Free Verse   Shadow Kill   Drinking alone by moonlight. Shadow, I miss us having the time to talk everything to death like we used to under the sun. He says nothing, staring at the moon. Then I club his head, slit his throat pull forth the guts, tear the body into pieces through which I wade.     A Day and Eternity   day carries me through night takes me beyond between day and night I float among words hope locks me up angst sets me free outside hope and angst I wander through poems   "autumn leaves" Kukai "cemetery" Haiku Thread