说禅同祁诈
talk zen you talk zen talk you,
a hustle-er hustling
3/32/16
I stepped onto that cloud, two days.
inhale with my next inhale kiss my lips,
exhale with my next exhale pulling.
a next breath,
mine will escape, weaving into it,
it I stepped on,
balanced with mine as hope and mine as a man,
lingering between truth,
and truth.
11/09/2014
cut me open,
a inch or half,
you may use a flash stick,
or that magic candle,
in the middle of my lung and heart,
a lime stone,
mirroring the mirrored,
with a perfect 180 angal.
10/22/2014
the moment I saw the city as a city,
with that sponge belly and mysteries face,
with the age of 1863.
10/05/2014
yellow the skirt,
naked legs underneath, scent Lolita, salty flavor, plus size.
嫩黄短裙下，
巨型少女的双腿，
咸湿一双眼。
10/01/2014
I watch the sky through one cherry tree,
juicy rubies wondering,
I wear the jacket of two cicadas whispering,
sweet summer lingering,
I count my heart beat,
one,
two,
three,
thinking about 'there',
question, what is waiting four?
ghost or lost?
question, what is leaving four?
five or fine?
the sixth bunny hopping by,
my eyes blink,
longing for the seven,
seven or heaven?
the eighth plane flying by,
my toes flick,
breathing for the night,
nine or knight?
I bit over the tenth figure,
the small cute one,
sigh,
there is a there,
here and there,
where I breath over to,
there is where,
here will be there.
09/28/2014
the biggest trouble,
there will be rainbow after storm.
09/14/2014
[that sunflower was stolen in Chinatown]
失踪的向日葵
the sunflowers I handed to you,
yellow, just like the pill cases on your window deck,
from wallgreen, babyproofing,
side effect: drowsing,
like bathing under the sun in the afternoon,
the afternoon I handed you the sunflowers.
09/13/2014
2014 will be an old year,
so old that people can't imagine,
like we can't imagine 1949.
09/06/2014
they died,
became a shape.
他或她或它死去了，
留下个形状。
08/30/2014
Fish soup
我在汤中翻找度过黑夜与寂寞的方法，
捣碎鱼与豆腐，
若干,
盼着，
有一刻大脑上浮。
rummaging the soup, I
search for the method to walk through darkness and loneliness,
smashing fish and tofu,
Some,
waiting for a moment,
the brain float.
鱼汤
08/30/2014
大热天，
什么都想不起。
我的拖鞋破了口，
夏天将要过去了。
hot day,
I can't remember any,
the sandal I wear break up,
it will end soon, this summer'o summer.
08/24/2014
John is back.
从前有个小朋友，
变成一个老
08/24/2014
搬空的房间，
有一年前的味道。
It smells like one year ago,
the day I moved in.
I really moved out now, with
sweat, blood and morning breath.
08/23/2014
CTA 1
pretend to be beautiful,
pretend to be fine,
she dressed like a mistress from 1965,
talking to the train drivers,
"it is a beautiful day! it will be a beautiful night."
pretend to be beautiful,
pretend to be fine,
I covered my eyes with a pair of white sunglasses, in the night,
with my back facing the train,
"I will understand! I will be fine."
08/19/2014
Afternoon of 8pm
-
just like a drag queen exploded, inside out, the room,
swept into four white walls, pale sheets, dusty carpets and,
red clouds, floating upon that moody light, too dark,
could't read.
the plastic face, one, swallowed,
the body cover of beauty,
the illusion of 'OK',
strained the jaw, broke something, inside,
'PA',
sound of red.
I can smell,
the ashes of guts,
lingering in that slow motion,
scene of white,
crossing the space, with a smile of,
mid-night confusion.
08/14/2014
cuddled like cats, we, finger tips and lips,
two.
lying with a third one, eight years old, black fur and golden eyes,
three.
scrambled using a fork, you, seasoned with a smiley face, eggs,
four.
under the light, red flies were circling,
five.
that face I kissed, from ear to cheek, to lip,
six.
rooms,
seven.
that moment you spaced out, diving into memory,
One moment.
I saw a sad face, sitting under a slice of the sun, 11:30, AM
in the room of mattresses.
08/10/2014
Cemetery III
I saw a beehive under that gravestone,
family Sandman.
beloved,
father, mother, son and daughter,
rest in peace.
08/08/2014
Cemetery II
“are you jew?”
he took off that black sunglasses, looking into my Asian face.
“can you see the deers in the cemetery.”
I said,
“moaning a gypsy song between their lips."
“你也是犹太人？” 他摘下眼镜，看我这张亚洲脸
“你看墓园里那只鹿，”
我说，
“唱着支吉普赛的曲子。”
08/08/2014
Cemetery I
这都是谁家的亲戚，
站成一排排，
也不顾把你是否认得，
任近任远，
一副再也不会在乎的表情。
whose relatives are they,
mother, father, son or daughter?
standing still in a roll, beloved they are,
I approach close and walk away. they stare,
with that look of carelessness.
08/08/2014
morning face
I wanted to move back to neverland
in my belly, carrying my treasures
the church morning bell tripped me, i fell
dang dang dang
i dropped my heart, and it ran away
dang dang dang
why did you run away? you can’t wear shoes
dang dang dang
why bother run away? you don’t have legs
it spun like a red ball, with firm eyes
left a trail of blood, smelless
dang dang dang
why did you run away? the stoned road is so rough
dang dang dang
why bother run away? the weather is still too cold
it happened in the morning July 30th, 2014, another Wednesday
I watched the sun rising up, flashing me
with that white yellow
morning face.
08/08/2014
all sweet hearts die, in the late midnight
piercing through the volnerable fog, color of gray, bleed onto a sami-dream.
I read a poem, about family.
remembered,
once I wished full,
once.
08/04/2014
天地不仁，
视你及你爹妈叔姨伯婶子女爷孙敌友，
皆如畜生。
nature is cruel,
he is just too nice to accept it,
如接受了便无法再做人般的，
不接受。
06/19/2014
你眼中有，一片枯林，
我点燃了，
那灰蒙住了我的
与你的眼。
in your eyes, a dead woods,
I burn it,
the ashes fly, covering eyes of
mine
and yours.
06/08/2014
我望向了另一件事，
却又悄悄想着这件。
I turn to another,
but still think about this one,
secretly.
06/08/2014
嘴里的樱桃，有我心脏大小的核
咬去了肉的，红色的核，
翻滚着落进石缝里，
似乎又落进海水里。
我站在海边的石滩，
嚼开另一颗。
the cherry in my mouth, had the seed sized like my heart,
the one without meat, red seed,
running into the rock crack,
or running into the sea.
I stood on the rock beach by the sea,
opened another one.
06/08/2014
it is in the middle of May, or in the middle of June and May,
I'm thinking about,
July and April.
六月中，或五月和六月中，
我想着，
四月和七月的事。
06/03/2014
JI YANG is a PUZZLE MAKER and a FICTION BUILDER.
JI YANG makes art like saying “2 x 2 = 5 ?” or “ fighting with a puffy pillow.”
JI YANG doesn’t like to take sides.
a fucking story teller with shaved eyebrows like dots
I shave my face, bite my lips and wink with both eyes together.
mine winks back, with a brain hole in its head.
an imagination.
many years ago, or many years later, I travel into the pneumoconiosis of China, a province size of land. the land locates thousands of miles away from the sea, the land famous by its money mine. the money people can dig out from the earth. the money people can burn, and become rich. the burning makes the land gray, from the highest sky, in the breath of a free floating plastic bag, to the deepest earth, on the skin of a free bleeding battery. I sit in a gray train, beside the window. the train is running in a crazy speed. the window is sealed because of the crazy weather. I can’t remember it is morning or afternoon, or the time is not to be memorable. I may have a mission in my pocket, or the commission is not to be memorable. I ask for warm water. the train conductor gives a mix of Coca and hot tea. it tastes like the tongue I sucked the night before. the tongue tastes just like mine. I look outside. two suns are hanging in the gray sky. the crazy running train can’t run out of this scene immediately. I get a blink chance to see.
it is not those super bright suns, but you can look directly into their eyes. one is blurring and the other is a little bit more blurring. there is a silver line in between, like a string from a spider net, blinking following a certain melody. I feel the string has a special smell, the smell of certainty. the certainty like I have to pay 4.29$ to get a bag of party size lay’s chips. a naked man walks on that string, a man with a big dead salmon head. he holds a bouquet of daisy, the daisy raises by his sweat.
I set my inspiration on fire and it burnt into a.
summer or winter, it is the season you can't care about the weather anymore. I head to an annual date. the date I can't remember when and why it started, but I remember the date for sure, just like I can remember to breath. it is always in a fish pool, within the landscape of the hometown from my childhood. the fish pool of pink water shivers with shadow of blue mountain and dark blue trees inside, with rice field surround. I ride my bicycle with zebra pattern to the third tree of that crossing, the crossing under mist, the mist tasting like cranberry marshmallow. I take off my socks and shoes and hang them onto the first branch of the tree. I find the rice field with plants as high as a contemporary skyscraper. I walk in and in the middle of somewhere of nowhere, I reach the fish pool. it is in the morning or afternoon, the plants' shadows covering my eyes. a fish swims to me. a fish is the fish.
the fish is tiny, tiny like a termite, with teeth and toes, with eyelashes and belly bottoms. the fish holds an unreadable facial expression on its gill. I cut its head open and eat its brain. the brain has a unique taste, the taste of trapping happiness inside of a cloudy tofu.
I think the reason I try to swim into your crowd, the crowd insisting only in my imagination for now, is because in that imagination, I live with my echoes.
I jump, leaving time just a little bit. there are no before and after any more. I see people here and there. people unwrap onions. they take off one layer, because there is one more layer inside.
I remember a party upstairs, the party with a theme. I can’t remember the party or the theme anymore.