piece by piece
I packed 40 years of life
into 60 boxes
once in Canada
they fill an Ajax attic
the crescent moon
shines over Ajax
my nostalgia
hangs
on its lower tip
my sleepless eyes
peeking through the blinds
massage
the moonlit lane
under autumn nights
time is signed
on the debris
of memories—
morning in Ajax
I live Taipei’s nightlife
your sunny face
smiling at me
in my drink—
like Ho Yi
I take nine shots
(Note: Ho Yi, a legendary Chinese hero, comes to earth to shoot down nine of the ten suns that are burning up the earth at the same time)
the autumn moon
over Ajax rooftops
hangs also above
Taiwan's fields—
rice grains falling
I met her
in an airport
we talked openly
as if we'd been stranded
on an desert island
Taiwan was safe
in my heart
years later I opened it
over the Pacific –
a worn map
on a moonless night
as I left for Canada
you gave me oranges
every now and again
Taiwan orange hangs in the sky
Canadian dream
locks me in the attic
even during the day . . .
no good time for sex
because I sleep with winter
my little brother
stands at full attention
for the first time—
no Canadian experience
needed when writing poems
(Note: In Canada, every new immigrant knows what the term "Canadian Experience" means for them. The discrimination against foreign sources of human capital places immigrants at a considerable disadvantage in the labour market. No Canadian experience, no job; no job, no Canadian experience)
when being shouted at
go back where you came from
the gray wings
of the Canada goose
skim my heart
side by side
our dictionaries
French-English
and Chinese-English—
exchange of solitudes
bathed in sunshine
outside a laundry store
in Ajax, I smell
the scent of clothes
on wash lines in Taipei
Atlas Poetica, #5
