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September
In the open fields
Is left nothing
Except bare stems, deep holes, bald twigs
But behind each closed door
Is a cozy room
Rented or owned, full of
Colored fruits, plump seeds
And overflowing minds
October
Burning, blooming
Like spring flowers
All tree leaves
Giggle, guffawing
With the west wind
In their fierce defiance
Against the elegy of the land
Recited aloud
In blood-throated voices
November
Most monotonous month:
Each passing day is depressed
Into a crow, its wings
Its body and tails
Newly glazed in the mists
Of thick dusk
Though its heart still
Lingers in the memory of
Summer’s orange morning glows
© by Changming Yuan.
Used with the author’s permission.
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Changming Yuan, 4-time Pushcart nominee and author of Chansons of a Chinaman, grew up in rural China and published several monographs before moving to Canada. With a PhD in English, Yuan currently teaches in Vancouver and has had poetry appearing in nearly 550 literary publications worldwide, including Asia Literary Review, Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Exquisite Corpse, London Magazine, Paris/Atlantic, Poetry Kanto, SAND and Taj Mahal Review.
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marenomitchell:
Each stanza is better than the one before it.
Posted 09/27/2012 09:01 PM
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69Dorcas:
Lovely reflection, terse. Sometimes words obscure the image. When the mind is distorted, or unduly influenced the eye cannot see.
Posted 09/26/2012 07:55 PM
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Eiken:
Beautiful work.
Posted 09/26/2012 11:19 AM
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mimi:
it's hard to find new ways to describe autumn, but these are unique--lovely words for a lovely season...
Posted 09/26/2012 08:04 AM
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