wind clatters on old gums of the sandbank
& red dust crescendos on streambeds.
this is yanggu’s orchestra
Browsing: poem
a] What you’re telling your friends it is, and what your talks are all about…
“When I do not compromise
I am selfish and time-hoarding.
Chair.
Sit.
Adjust.
Adjust the other side.
No, adjust the other side.
the soft hum of waves echo,
washing over my skin, eyes, mind,
as I slip slowly into the depths of dreaming.
sometimes I am a melting icicle
or glacier; tiny slips drip dripping away,
cascading down cold-blooded cheeks.
How shall I be
One of the great I see
In a world of “men”
Where I am a woman
Your footsteps gone, grass spry before I could ask,
Hold my hand, just this once…
I suppose I am cursed and privileged to live in the space in between; Homesick here, homesick there.
They say Nguyen translates as musician or musical instrument so I concede perhaps my artistry belongs to my ancestors.
