At the Estuary

As if the whole continent is having a diarrhea
Trying to excrete all the filth from within its body
This flattened asshole throws out huge volumes of
Animal tears and sweat, riding on swift currents

Of human blood, run off from both banks; surging
On the surface are endless waves of monstrous concepts
And constructs, followed by rafts of skulls and skeletons
Every grain of sand containing a stained soul; there are

No fishes swimming by, except rotten human corpses
Eyes swollen like dead octopuses, ebbs turning and
Swirling around to suck in every cry from above the dark sky
As the most newly-invented gods try to jump out of the flow

From time to time, as if to call for help before entering the ocean

Changming Yuan

 

Yuan Changming, nine-time Pushcart and one-time Best of Net nominee, published monographs on translation before moving out of China. Currently, Yuan edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver; credits include Best of Best Canadian Poetry (2008-17), BestNewPoemsOnline, Threepenny Review and 1309 others.