你只能等待雨 | You can only wait for the rain

By Chen Poyu
Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Poetry

“Manscaping” and “White Hair Silver Needle”

Poetry

I said sorry
always thrice like a prayer.

Poetry

I think she goes to the woods and dances.

Poetry

“Ghazal for Longing,” “My Uncle Told Me I Was His,” and “An Ordinary Day”

Poetry

If a man thinks of my body as just a body I am free from betrayal.

Poetry

There are some stories / too sacred to be retold

Interviews

Episode 5 of The Source

Poetry

there is no god but the God you can call with a bruised mouth 

Poetry

I grow, I decay, darkness comes, lightness comes

Poetry

auspicious tree roots
Rather than waste energy
told a new story

Poetry

To eat you, sliced or diced, and boiled over

Poetry

你只能等待雨 | You can only wait for the rain

Poetry

Dear Bored Witness: free me!

Poetry

In this language, so many words/ for        hurt.

Poetry

you search the ground/ for a place to land

Poetry

violence poses as shipwreck, both accident and fate

Poetry

“Placebo” and “Party Ghost”

Poetry

On every grave, for saint or for sinner, grows a green garden

Poetry

We chase each other through the murmuration.

Poetry

aku laju ke masa yang nun | I continued to the time over yonder

Poetry

“Manscaping” and “White Hair Silver Needle”

Poetry

To eat you, sliced or diced, and boiled over

Poetry

I said sorry
always thrice like a prayer.

Poetry

你只能等待雨 | You can only wait for the rain

Poetry

I think she goes to the woods and dances.

Poetry

Dear Bored Witness: free me!

Poetry

“Ghazal for Longing,” “My Uncle Told Me I Was His,” and “An Ordinary Day”

Poetry

In this language, so many words/ for        hurt.

Poetry

If a man thinks of my body as just a body I am free from betrayal.

Poetry

you search the ground/ for a place to land

Poetry

There are some stories / too sacred to be retold

Poetry

violence poses as shipwreck, both accident and fate

Interviews

Episode 5 of The Source

Poetry

“Placebo” and “Party Ghost”

Poetry

there is no god but the God you can call with a bruised mouth 

Poetry

On every grave, for saint or for sinner, grows a green garden

Poetry

I grow, I decay, darkness comes, lightness comes

Poetry

We chase each other through the murmuration.

Poetry

auspicious tree roots
Rather than waste energy
told a new story

Poetry

aku laju ke masa yang nun | I continued to the time over yonder