Two Monochrome Photos from Summer

1.

The morning heat 

                           breaks through the window

and warps 

                           the dream 

into a hot reality.

8 o’clock, 

                           the fateful hour of awakening,

reminded 

by a ticking watch,

with almost the same rhythm 

                                 of the heart.

A moaning summer, 

                            dying in the yards.

Some arranged flowers 

                            yellow

                            from a sad florist.

2

The scorching south wind,

                               breath 

of Feilian, coming to all

in cities or villages.

                            A wash of tolling bells.

thick shadows 

                             hidden

behind a mottled wall

and a murmuring crowd of people 

                            squatting at the gate

of a silent neighborhood.

 

Published at Thirty West Publishing House 

First Snow

The weight of winter, hard on every cloud

dropping low on this city, and soon

shredded, 

                     ground 

                                   and falling white 

from a vulnerable sky, 

                        breeding

the first shade of darkness 

                        prolonging the night.

A soft wavering voice 

                          Against the wind —

Melancholy.

 

 

published at Thirty West Publishing House

Tonight

It must have been too much alcohol,

even your look becomes suddenly 

                                            so tender

and full of the promise 

                             of a summer’s night.

I’m longing to have you, 

                                   here and now

before the harsh daylight steals you away

and I might never see you again.

                                  Anyway that’s the game,

a sweet but ruthless encounter 

 

                                   with no tomorrow

for queers like us in this all-embracing land.

But I like you tonight – 

that’s why this empty bar

does call for something more intimate 

                                     between us.

your face— 

your half-open shirt—

Your creamy chest— 

O the rushing sound 

                           deep inside my veins!

It’s been too good a night to let you flee,

                           just stay a while longer—

If you desire admiration,

                           or compliments 

from all men before and after me,

I have nothing better now

                          than my loneliness 

in a promiscuous life,

and tonight,

                            I’ve given it to you.

 

Published on The New English Review

A Shanghai Poetry Zine-Issue Eight

IMG_3147Hi All

The eighth printed issue of A Shanghai Poetry Zine will be launch this Saturday, 15th December 2018 at Cafe Sambal.

Two of my poems are included in this issue, themed Legacy.

One original poem, The Bridge,

One translation, Whispers Of Nanny

If you are in Shanghai, come and listen to me reading my poems.

Time:19:30pm, 15th, December 2018

Place: Cafe Sambal, Block A, No.37, 259 Jiashan road.

Cheers.

A.H