Poetry

"...a season of dogs in the year of starvation..."

"...with eyes: half-inquiring, half-afraid..."

"...Soon there will be no more time..."

"...Grief and I have never quite seen eye to eye..."

"...waiting for the charge..."

"...Stunting roses on senile soils..."

"...soft whispers echo upon the cellar walls..."

"...so dear to me, yet lost in time..."

"...so that you never have to stop gambling..."

"...and i have every house on this walk memorized like bad poetry..."

"...follow your feather..."

"...how could I say no..."

"...leave the poems to the poets..."

"...Five days a week, you stand on a platform with people who glance at watches..."

"You suffer me, I tolerate you..."

"...A refugee; a piper; a homeless boy, a castaway..."

"...at all times she wondered whether his head wasn't full of wind..."

"...the sky is the same but the ground beneath is not..."

"...The dark gray cloud bank rolled over the hill from St. Louis..."

Hongri Yuan, born in China in 1962, is a poet and philosopher interested particularly in creation. His poetry has been published in the UK, USA, India, New Zealand, Canada and Nigeria.

"...into a wind across an edge of yard..."

"...when the trigger is pulled..."

"...Yet life sometimes needs clarification..."

"...an exhalation of breath, blessed relief..."

"...not a single one of them has a clue..."

"... how do I set asunder yours and mine?.."

"...Enough gets to be enough..."

"...the temple of the soul is in a garden beyond time..."

"The publishers get antsy. And you can hardly blame them..."

"...I can hear the wind howling through her bones..."