2 Poems



Every year there is
As much summer
As many trees here
As in my native village in China


But there is not a single cicada
On any twig, or among a cluster
Of leaves, a cicada that I used to listen to
Singing aloud monotonously, like a


Fine saw working on rusty metal
Between my boyish ears


What I hear is a deafening American voice
About selling every human
Behavior, every human whim
That keeps penetrating each animal ear





Childhood Secrets


When I was three or four, I buried
Several hard-gained marbles
Near our rented room, hoping one day
They would grow into magic trees


Half a century later, I dug them all out
On a dull afternoon. The moment
I put the first one on my table, a flock
Of crows flew up; when I thought of
The second, it burned like a forest fire


Now I hesitate to write the word ‘immortality’

Front page image by Theophilos Papadopoulos.

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Yuan Changming

About the Author

Yuan Changming, an 8-time Pushcart nominee, is the most widely-published poet who speaks in both Mandarin and English. Tutoring and co-editing Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver, Changming has poetry appearing in 919 literary publications across 30 countries, including Best Canadian Poetry (2009, 12, 14), BestNewPoemsOnline, and Threepenny Review.
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