by Yuan Changming
Having nothing
better to do, I kill
Time
by looking at a traditional
Chinese painting on my iPad
Much
enlarged, it appears like
A plain sheet of rice paper
Smeared
with ink. I view it
In
the presence of bonsai; I
Drop several thick strokes to the floor
Of history, leaving a few fine lines
Behind the sofa,
& failing
To
catch a colorless corner
Between black and white
It is a
landscape newly relocated
Into my heart’s backyard. Then I sit
On
my legs, meditating about
No light in the picture, no
Shadow of anything, no perspective
As in hell. Isn’t this the art of seeing?
Yuan Changming published monographs on translation before leaving China. Currently, Yuan edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver. Credits include ten Pushcart nominations, Best of the Best Canadian Poetry (2008-17) and BestNewPoemsOnline, among others.