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GREEN MEDITATION
By Changming Yuan 

 

 

Thicket

Standing straight against the frozen sky
Your skeletons are the exquisite calligraphy
Of the season

Your name is writ

Not in water
But with wind

 

 

Ventifacting

A fact of fiction
A fiction of fact
Carved with the invisible
Chisels of the tropical wind
You will never undertake a finishing touch

Nor do you really need one
To bloom your inner being
Into a solid shape of beauty
Weathering against all civilization

 

 

Green Meditation

What do trees
Think of?

All their lives they have been
Contemplating, so attentively

Realized: mindful for certain
Yet without a feeling

Down from the earthly depth
Up against the ethereal boundary

A loose thought travelling swiftly
From bough to bough. Meditating

On what to think of

 

 

Rite of Passage  

With a storm
With a gull
With your breath

Goes the thought
With a vague vision
Beyond the bogland

With your heart
Hawking aloud in the wild
With dripping blood

An unformed concept
A shoal of consciousness
Bubbling with feeling

With a photon
With a quantum
With your mind concentrated
On a twisted other

 

 

 Natural Ironies (4) 

1/ / Snagging

You have long since died
But you will never fall

Standing deadly among leafy growths
Your body embodies a rebirth
Greening close to your rotten cycles

2/ Moonbow

Few humans look up
At you, but you reflect
And refract just as many colors
As much beauty as a sunbow

With little warmth of the day
But countless secrets about darkness

3/ Whale

You hope to make a loud last call that
Reaches

Far beyond yourself, on yourself, yourself reachable; an
Agitated

Vociferous spirit in the Pacific, cruising
Under night currents, yell

As if for an echo, though too loud to be heard
For the un-whale like


Listening to the Mountain Murmuring

Twenty minimeters of pink petals.

Twenty minimetres of stretch and reach
Floral foil, twenty minimeters
Of soil, grass, dew, bush

Sitting in green meditation about

                        The balance between yin and yang

 

Myriad of leaves,
Falling down with mists

            Of last night approaching – twenty minimeters

Of ethereal presence, kissing
The thick ridges – is the soul

            The melody of equanimity?
Insects sloughing off

In chameleon-rhythms.
You stopped as you heard them

Twenty minimeters of dandelions rolling against
The vastness of sky and mountain



 

author

Yuan Changming, nine-time Pushcart and one-time Best of the Net nominee, grew up in a remote village, started to learn English in Shanghai at age 19, and published monographs on translation before moving out of China. With a Canadian PhD in English, Yuan currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver, and has poetry appearing in Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Cincinnati Review, Threepenny Review and 1259 others across 38 countries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

     
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