Cai’s “Sky Ladder”
by Li “Web Crease” Du
He made a ladder,
with the help
of many labourers,
that went up gleaming
to the sky, Cai,
and his able purse,
at Huiyu Island Harbour,
It lifted on a huge,
the dusk-blue rising
of the early sun,
slate of steps
in the dawn.
and then it was gone.
He sighed to see it rise,
so high and long,
and then his vision vanished
in a twinkling—
Cai Guo Qiang.
Li “Web Crease” Du is a poet of the Chinese. As a youth he drank Tang; older he drinks in Tang poets. He likes the play of language that flies across the Internet. He is an intimate of poets, like Wu “Sacred Bee” Li, Aw “Curbside” Lee, and Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei, with whom he shares a common, more than telepathic, bond.
In Prison in China
by Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei
But winter comes too soon, and all our trees begin to dry.
We do not have the nutrients. Our eyes no longer cry.
Our hair is frozen gray-white by the snows of many years.
Our skin looks like a field of cracks. Our eyes have no more tears.
For winter we are happy here in hibernation’s arms.
Our hearts are tir’d, as is our blood. Our eyes are full of harms.
We live beyond the high walls on the other side of grief.
We see the mountains from afar. Our eyes have no belief.
The winter of our prison term continues to defang
our words that flap against the air. Our eyes close, Li Bifeng
Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei is a poet grounded in the Modernist experiments of Hu Shih, Xu Zhimo, Wen Yiduo, and Lu Xun.
Upon the Vauxhall Bridge
by B. S. Eliud Acrewe
“…si lunga tratta di gente, ch’io non avrei mai creduto che morte tanta n’avesse disfatta…”
Dante Alighieri, “Divina Comedia”
A crowd flows over Vauxhall Bridge across the River Thames,
beneath the castled SIS, thick with its strategems.
I had not thought so many walked upon the gray cement,
alive and animated, hardly filled with discontent.
They anxiously progress, there clad in blacks, whites, pinks and blues.
One spies the hurried, hardly worried, movement of their shoes.
The scarlet double-decker buses smile in the light.
The buildings tower all about in browns, grays, blues, and bright,
like silver gleaming in the sun, or piles of muted gold,
a brave new world mixed in with the up-to-date and old.
B. S. Eliud Acrewe is an Anglophile, like Henry James and T. S. Eliot, though he remains American. In his youth he was swept up in the Britpop Invasion: Petula Clark, Donovan, Peter & Gordon, Lulu, Chad & Jeremy, Gerry & the Pacemakers, Them, Kinks, Dave Clark Five, Animals, Herman’s Hermits, Rolling Stones, Hollies, Beatles, Tom Jones, Unit 4 + 2, etc. He is a close correspondent of Basil Drew Eceu.
by “Weird” Ace Blues
pour Jason Wright
In re. Regarding r.e.m. I d…re…a…m. I’m battling
time…losing. Lo, sing out loud. Doubt Cloud, sabre rattling.
Remember: typing as fast as I can. I’m losing it—
the race. I’m falling
falling down into an oozing pit.
We want to wash away the day with water. Will it work?
It dissipates. Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course.
I close my eyes and rise into the flows of reverie.
The eve is evening out care’s concerns, o, everything.
All falls. The false is fading fast. At last. My breath escapes.
My mind is momentarily at peace in th’ open space.
“Weird” Ace Blues is a poet grounded in the Modernist experiments of Ezra Pound, T. S. Eliot, E. E. Cummings, Wallace Stevens, Marianne Moore, and William Carlos Williams, inter alia.