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Chen-ou Liu - 2


Selected Haiku and Tanka...

Picture

Chen-ou Liu's Profile
Page 1 of Chen-ou Liu's poetry

brown spots
on my graduation photo ...
my hands too


a crow's cry
flies into darkness ...
alone with myself


the texture
of a sex worker's lips
Valentine's night

❧

winter mist
fat phobia weighing
on her mind


twin kites
soar high in the sky ...
a pair of eyes
looking down
on my childhood dream

❧

winter twilight
an old man and his dog
share the shadow


the slap
of flesh hitting flesh
distant sirens


a line of men
on the wall-to-wall carpet
the six-year-old
in a mariachi outfit sings
The Star-Spangled Banner


blood-stained lily...
I lock her secret
in a haiku 
 
❧

smell of silence...
a whirlwind of snowflakes
on our way home


Toronto skyscrapers
shrouded in haze
Taipei memories


autumn twilight
a crow's fly filling the spaces
between his words

❧
he said, she said
lingering in the room...
twilight deepens


between the blueness

of sky and sea
girl on a surfboard


his day punctuated
by the beeps of a machine ...
cicadas cry

❧

I raise

my husky voice,
I'm a poet ...
the word useless like a moth
flying around my heart


red butterfly ...
her name slips off my tongue
in a whisper

❧


his dead wife's photo...
cigarette smell lingers
on his bony hand 


a white butterfly
flying from branch to branch
thoughts of my ex 


inside the church
the congregation praying
under Jesus' gaze
two Romani women
in the trash-littered square 

❧

summer moonlight
on One Thousand and One Nights
mother's smell


white flight, white fright ...
my Chinese roommate
practices "l" and "r"
before the window
as the moonlight slips in


I scribble down
today's first line
memories
rising like bubbles
from the mud of my mind

❧
the steady patter
of rain on the roof ...
winter solstice


unlit votives

in a country church
the stale smell


threadbare scarecrow

in the snowy field
its shadow touches mine

❧

in the depth
of a winter night
I peer
into the mirror:
Death with half-closed eyes


spring tea party
the sound of pastry
snapping

❧


thoughts of home
like the touch of Mother's hand
on this cold night
I walk alone toward
the place I settle now 


looking out a window
across Lake Ontario
the aroma
of crucian carp soup
fills the gaps in my heart

(Note: Crucian carp soup is one of China’s favorite dishes) 

❧

my muse drones
on and on
in a monotone voice
snowflakes drifting
on this hazy spring day


thirty-nine
and a baby again ...
I see
myself in the eyes
of this MS patient


la petite mort
ends his underground note
winter light

❧

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