drifted away and never returned.

That person, too,

departed from the river.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

Time turned back through a few lifetimes.

Walking to the ends of the earth with this staff.

Objects and plants as companions along the way.

Alas, a resting place is ephemeral and temporary.

Stopping and then moving again. Stopping and then moving again.

On a high mound, high mountains, storks half-revealed.

Thank you for reading.

Y.A.

hangs across half a lifetime.

A dim oil lamp

flickers.

An unmoving shadow

on the wall.

Tatami whispers to the wall,

“Hey, you—

the mortal world

is the realm of the black moonflower.”

The wall replies,

“Then imprint

that moonflower here, Tatami.”

☘️

Thank you for reading.

Y.A.

I have two eyes.

One eye I use to see the world,

the other I keep for you.

But where are you,

where are you?

The ship roars, the ocean is far away.

Magnificent Paris,

is it still as captivating as the eye

with which I glance at you?

☘️

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

They bloom within me and within you.

They bloom within the human heart.

The bumper harvest is the sugarcane flower season of compassion.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

I move far. You approach.

Fansipan, be a witness!

High pass. Mountain overturns.

Pass overturns. High mountain.

What must be done?

Only need two gusts of wind to hypnotize.

☘️

Thank you for reading.

What do you think about this kind of Surreal-Physics poetry?

Y.A.

The moss, damp and slimy, is a dull dark brown-gray.

The old tiger roared throughout the day.

Two eyes appeared sunken at night.

Looking pensively at the corner of the warehouse.

It remembered glorious days,

when people considered it king.

Two front legs looked crooked.

Two hind legs had turned into barbed-wire hands.

Two hands, sharp, cold, and purple-blue.

Then, one day, powerful lightning struck.

It startled; it screamed.

Its soul flew wildly into the red paint box.

In that brief moment,

it longed to return to the house with a roof.

☘️

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

counting each breath,

each drop of cloud wandering around here.

Then I see you.

My soul is less lonely.

You sleep so soundly,

never startled.

They say you harm the leaves,

yet you don’t mean it.

You are merely

borrowing the branch to rest,

aren’t you?

I gaze at the yellow leaves

at the end of the rainy season.

Oh, the last yellow leaves!

I reach out to pick you,

I bury you.

Please don’t be upset with me!

You will rise again —

you will be graceful once more.

I’m leaving now,

not knowing if we’ll ever meet again.

Yet no matter what,

I will forever carry

a sky of fallen leaves in my heart.

☘️

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

He asked me, “How do you know the weeds and flowers have no soul?”

I told him, “The soul of the weeds and flowers is the same as ours. Stay where you are, don’t rush away.”

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Do you believe a wildflower has a soul?

☘️

A Pink Bud of Sunlight. I Call You... The What What?

Dew teases, wind sulks, why are you still so calm?

Stunningly graceful, the dawn is envious of you.

Just stay demure! I’ll go to find the pink bud of sunlight for you.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

The clouds embraced the wind.

The sun held an umbrella.

A skylark nodded,

flew back and forth,

then perched on the young woman’s shoulder.

Eyes half-closed,

she caressed her salt-and-pepper hair.

Two years have passed,

she no longer dreams.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

Plaintive own soul.

The palace of sorrow, who cares?

The pipa has lost a string.

The thread of sentiment snapped, too.

A mournful farewell song.

The traveler’s figure faded away.

The heart’s boat wandered to a new shore.

Withered flowers will bloom in the street of winter.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

The fragrant scent of smoke from someone’s charcoal stove wafts into the air,

forming a bright blue with vibrant curves.

The butterfly sniffs and tastes the strange smoke.

With eyes half-closed for a moment,

it looks up at the sun spreading its golden wings.

Then, the butterfly remains still and motionless.

Somehow, it is uninterested in searching for the jasmine pistil today.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

‘‘I am like a stone that knows pain.’’

☘️

The train accelerates

while the bronchi spin.

The bronchi continue to breathe,

striving to break free from the train.

The clouds become agitated.

A bolt of lightning hits unexpectedly.

The red flamboyant

shifts to a bluish-gray hue.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

☘️

Dust Dissolves in Rain — Saturday Afternoon Refrain

The rain sings, the wind calls, I'm still here.
A moment of leisure to wash away life’s chaos.
A wild orchid for those I have affection for.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

☘️

She clung
Addicted
Couldn’t stop
The tighter she held…the more she slipped.
One day…she let go.
"Oh…my hands…don’t hurt anymore."

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

☘️

By the window frame, a pure white color,
Blue rose mourns yellow lily,
reminiscing about the days,
danced under the rain bubbles together.
Where did those days go?
Heartbeats stopped,
unready to say goodbye,
no promise of a next life.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Y.A.