..:: CONTENTS ::..

   Volume X, Issue II

..:: POETRY ::..

..:: PROSE ::..
..:: OTHER ::..

..:: ETC ::..
   Contributor's Notes

..:: ARCHIVES ::..
   Volume I, Issue I
   Volume I, Issue II
   Volume II, Issue I
   Volume II, Issue II
   Volume III, Issue I
   Volume III, Issue II
   Volume IV, Issue I
   Volume IV, Issue II
   Volume V, Issue I
   Volume V, Issue II
   Volume VI, Issue I
   Volume VI, Issue II
   Volume VII, Issue I
   Volume VII, Issue II
   Volume VIII, Issue I
   Volume VIII, Issue II
   Volume IX, Issue I
   Volume IX, Issue II
   Volume X, Issue I


Y: A Parallel Poem
Changming Yuan


you are obsessed with the letter, with
your yellowish skin; you enjoy
       meditating within the shape of
a wishbone, inside the broken wing
             of an oriental bird strayed, or
in a larger sense, you look like
     the surfacing tail of a pacific whale
             who yells low, but whose voice reaches afar
far beyond a whole continent, to a remote village
     near the yellow river, where you used to sunbathe
             rice stems, reed leaves, cotton skeletons
with a fork made of a single horn-shaped twig
             when you were a barefooted country boy
                          on the other side of this new world



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