P r o p h e c y for P o e t s 


2

P r o p h e c y for P o e t s

A poet’s competition is silence
A poet’s competition is extinction
For they are the voice of the living
More importantly, all who will live
Poets obsesses over the dead because
They inherit and continue the tradition
It’s a tradition of voice and narrative
Of beloved meme as an offering to beauty
Language lives evolving like an organic thing
If you can, translate foreign poems
Into English and into Mandarin
Everyone is your teacher, an interesting life
Comes from inside, the void will ask you
Many times, to stop writing, to put down your pen
Don’t do it, writing is hard work
So, burn, like a lost soul in time
And find yourself in a poem, in the margins
Notes, insights, faith that you have always loved.

To Name is to Create


36

I draw these letters
Alphabets I was taught
The day draws its images
The night will blow them over
Forever, they are mere words

Writing in the sand
Symbols do not return
They are invisible
For the rest of years
No one will read

Poems left unpublished
No one will read
Novels burnt before
Marketing, but writing
Is my way out, my music

And my bread, the milk
And wine of my loneliness
So what am I to do?
These poems sharpen
My emotions, they love me

Across the night
Where I am but a ghost
In the conjunction of stars
I drew these letters on
A white canvas, they are

More me than anything
Else I have or will own
They know me better
Than the women who come
And go in my life

I will tell them my secrets
Poetry has set fire
To all poems, but I am that
Living fire, I am that warmth
Of a thousand glorious sunsets.

beautiful dolphin jumping from shining water