Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Haiku Written in China
after filling my basket
with fat strips of pork
the salesman gives me a cigarette
my pocket knife
sticky with snow pear juice
is covered with lint
thermos bottles clang together
in the crowd
around the boiled water faucets
the humpbacked girl
follows us
into the apple orchard
trenches circling the apple trees
the November scent
of feces and rotting vegetables
on the flat top of the hill
new wheat
quickly banging the wooden disk
the Chinese chess player
takes a piece
an old woman hobbles by
on little black feet
"look - a crimp-foot granny"
after shitting outside
the little boy has a tail
of dry leaves
flipping the newly minted
one Mao coin
it doesn't ring
layers of knitted stockings
give the thin Chinese girls
big knees
The five flights of stairs
to the Foreign Language floor
are slippery with snot
loads upon loads
in the squat toilet
but no paper
the train worker
mops the corridor
with urine
the dog meat salesman
points at the dead white teeth
I bark
man-made caves
dot the hills
in the dance hall
the tough-looking PLA men
dance with each other
yellow clay paths
zig-zag the vegetable terraces
tonight's dinner
crows from the teacher's balcony
with fat strips of pork
the salesman gives me a cigarette
my pocket knife
sticky with snow pear juice
is covered with lint
thermos bottles clang together
in the crowd
around the boiled water faucets
the humpbacked girl
follows us
into the apple orchard
trenches circling the apple trees
the November scent
of feces and rotting vegetables
on the flat top of the hill
new wheat
quickly banging the wooden disk
the Chinese chess player
takes a piece
an old woman hobbles by
on little black feet
"look - a crimp-foot granny"
after shitting outside
the little boy has a tail
of dry leaves
flipping the newly minted
one Mao coin
it doesn't ring
layers of knitted stockings
give the thin Chinese girls
big knees
The five flights of stairs
to the Foreign Language floor
are slippery with snot
loads upon loads
in the squat toilet
but no paper
the train worker
mops the corridor
with urine
the dog meat salesman
points at the dead white teeth
I bark
man-made caves
dot the hills
in the dance hall
the tough-looking PLA men
dance with each other
yellow clay paths
zig-zag the vegetable terraces
tonight's dinner
crows from the teacher's balcony
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