“Why are you so afraid of losing?” he asked, “Everybody loses something or someone at some point in their lives.” He walked away from her, and his lips moved into a position that she would never expect to see. She started thinking about those two parrots she had when she was young. Chirping around, those two greenish birds brushed her with kisses and the yellow feathers on their heads. Claws overlapped each other and clanged on the cage. She fed them with water, held her crayons but she felt like a little thief. He mumbled, “You cannot capture them.” “You cannot hold onto them.” “You cannot cage them.” But she was too late to let go of them. She could barely remember the whole robbery that afternoon: the glass was shattered in the garden, the cage was crippled and knocked over, the yellow feathers were scratched off, the screechy laugh of the cat was heard and the broken claws were lying in her palm. October 2016
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It was only five. The steam that rose from the rice-cooker fogged the dusk. There she shuffled along the kitchen shifting and shoving the Choi-sum from the sieve, until they were carefully washed. The tap is the mirror where her veins curved the paths on her hand, a wounded bird could flutter no more, but tears, as summer rain in Southern China, wetted her bandage - the ring Twenty four was she when he clutched her hands, as I now hold onto her hands, which gently brushed my weariness away and taught me how to write poetry. February 2016
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Long have I departed from you, long have I been petrified at the front steps, gazing at the gate, reconstructing the countless hours you had spent here, with the stubborn street light, dimmed in the swirling smoke of nicotine. For twelve years had it questioned your patient heart? It agitates me as I am ready to take the blame from your distorted eyebrows. Yet only the moth is left clinging onto the wall, waiting, waiting — for the patina on the doorplate to be shined by the headlights again, for the lock to be jingled by the muted keys again. Falling bricks, cracking pillars, dining table serves no dinner but dust, dancing in disdain. Is your towel weeping? Rumour said your toothbrush confronted frigidity alone in the winter. Bizarre is your stereo buzzed occasionally as if you sighed bitterly beside me. What is your chair carrying? — Mockery of my too late words? Tears washed in the mist of days? You are gone — Then your ties suffocated themselves in a dead knot. In need of a psychiatrist, your coffee mug was desperate for a suicidal waltz, as the remedial requiem rebounded in the air: “Out, out — why, still, am I lingering in this traumatic house?” As dawn bursts through these shattered windows, I shall wake up from that nightmarish morning, When the disordered thunder rolled onto your bed and robbed you of your beats.
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1.That bottle of milk in your refrigerator definitely had dated Louis Pasteur once. 2.The Mercury retrograde periods of 2015 are: January 21st – February 11th, May 18th – June 11th and September 17th – October 9th. 3.Neither the rotation of the planets on the sky nor your mother has anything to do with the frustration of your oven. 4.You should replace the batteries for your parakeet when it doesn’t know how to sing. 5.Fix your clock! 6.I abandoned my telescope in the corner when I turned eleven. 7.She uses oak leaves as bookmarks, so does her cat. 8.Mom forgot her spatula in the washing machine. 9.Missing you has caused a blister to grow on my heart. 10.Whitney’s whale whispered, “Where is my whistle?” 11.A bottle of mustard is absolutely not enough for your Subway sandwich. 12.The cinders are committing suicides in the smelter. 13.In the old days, the recipes for your dinner came from the transistor radio. 14.Small tip: Don’t use the bellows to blow the flour when you are making cupcakes. 15.The donkey was reading tarot cards for me when the comet fell into our puddle. 16.The anvil wrote a resignation letter to the blacksmith because he is tired of being banged. 17.Before you fight with darkness, fix the filaments. 18.That plank on the front porch of my house has prepared for his prison break for ten years. 19.If this place has to be forgiven, it has to forget that boy lying on the asphalt road. 20.In the parallel universe, a donkey called Louis Pasteur discovers lives on the Mercury using a telescope, a whistle, a plank, some oak leaves and batteries when he is listening to the transistor radio and the parakeet, and when the comet falls on an asphalt road, but he never discovers that a mustard puddle could cause blisters on his tongue, that Thomas Edison used carbon filaments for his light bulbs, that cinder would dance with the bellows when the anvil is taking a nap and that without an oven, a spatula and flour, he could never bake a pizza. (Object Poem, nouns including: spatula, comet, donkey, telescope, blister, flour, oak leaf, transistor radio, whistle, mustard, plank, cinder, parakeet, mercury, oven, battery, asphalt, filament, anvil, bellows, puddle, Louis Pasteur) April, 2015
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和你在夜半的大球場熱吻 聽起來 就在心上烙出一道軌跡 消瘦的射燈 被霧雨湮沒般 它只有 比夜空更深邃的輪廓 偶而走過嬉笑的年輕人 他們和我們一樣沒有明天 他們和我們一樣毫不留戀 他們和我們一樣徹夜無眠 會把我們當成黑夜裡散落的幽魂 相擁 取暖 碰撞 存在 遠處燈火 如新世紀沉寂的星宿 忽遠又近 一盞燈 細說著一段故事 睜大雙眼 盯著 城市的夜空 是一個孤寂的黑洞 在三月 春天 霧雨迷蒙的香港 我還在等一個答案 我還有一首詩沒有寫完 March 2015
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a shadow lingered in my endless illusions a beam crawled in my heartless pain an ecstasy that dragged me into the maniacal circus of life an antidote that cured my bizarre plague of love with heartbreaks, with wine I wandered in between daydreams and nightmares you an unfinished poem longed for a deathless song 你似陰影 也是無情苦楚中的一束光 你是靈藥 解我臆想中的頑疾 你啊 如白日夢和夜之魘 是我的靈魂 卻剝離了想念 你哦 是一首待續的詩歌 有著 不朽的熱望 (中文by 存) January 2015
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門後 一片湖藍色的森林 風起 驚得葉兒掀起裙擺 那波光底下泛動著什麼秘密 蜿蜒的根上 衰老的文字輕聲唱著 一首無言的離歌 枝椏間 有一雙寫滿奇跡的眼睛 那是少年的眼睛 湮沒在風裡 葉裡 歌聲裡 我摸著大衣的口袋 找不到開門的鑰匙 February 2015
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midnight at the convenience store a strange soul of whom I know not her name nor her scars nor her yesterdays she seemed to have a familiar face – searching through the refrigerator collecting different flavors of gum studying the curry stain in the microwaves and – digging for an expired train ticket a half-empty bottle of wine a young diary in the pile of chips and candies she climbed over the counter dragged the shirt of the cashier stared straight into those eyes, terrified eyes for a whole damn minute it disappointed her torn she broke into endless screams and tears “how did I become like this, father? did you eat your car keys? have you seen my dancing shoes?” I was ready to rush away from this mire of nonsense – but she grabbed my wrist and looked at me with her face my stolen face and I forgot who I am March 2015
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Three dots indicating a possibility: "Maybe I ..." "Is this really ..." "Are we gonna ..." Three dots revealing a reality: "When did you ..." "I am sorry I ..." "Don't you dare to ..." Three dots continuing an unfinished story: "Why would you ..." "How could I ..." "What if we ..." February 2015
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