Che Qianzi [Poetry East West] |
from
Language from a New Century: Contemporary Poetry from the
Middle East, Asia, & Beyond, ed.
Tina Chang, Nathalie Handal, & Ravi Shankar:
Sentences
by
Che Qianzi, tr. Jeffrey Twitchell-Wass & Yang Liping
1:
A spire in the north. A spire in the south. In the south a nail was
pulled out.
2:
A half moon, two earths, one earth, very soft when stepped on, very
soft shyster.
3:
The gods appear to have freckled faces; the masses’ point of view;
the rubble creeps over the branches; you are going to hunt birds.
4:
A box that cannot keep secrets, darkness and Jiangsu Province, will
be reduced to a leaky cage. In the cage there is nothing, the
background contains it.
5:
A water drop too is curved.
6:
Lace words on the cuff, Tailor Song threads the eye of the needle.
Shrimp heads twisted off their bodies.
7:
Tadpoles drifting between commas, differentiated by their tails, were
finally expelled from the fictitious revolutionary troop. Transformed
into iron-skin green frogs, with the press of a button they jump
without stop, without stop.
8:
One sentence is no longer than one character. The character gets a
big head. The character becomes a big star. A spire. Ursa Major
hammering bright the nails in the north.
9:
One sentence circled three times around one character, circling the
fourth time it broke.
this is pretty wild. (Eclectia, thy name is Carol)
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