Entering the subway station, I have been used to such a scene, The crowds are like waves, one after another, pushing against each other. Complaints, shoutings, quarrels, rushing into my ears.
People collide with each other like bulls in a limited space.
Struggling to squeeze into the narrow subway, Surrounded by tight breathings.
The subway drove out of the dark tunnel, a ray of sunlight spilled through the window.
Everything is restored to its usual, The turmoil turns back to tranquil.
No matter how hasty the morning is, Our plans are not disrupted. We look forward to tomorrow, Just like yesterday.
This is Shanghai.
Wenjin Zhang // MORNING IN SHANGHAI
Eileen Cannon // NIGHTHAWKS BASED ON “NIGHTHAWKS” BY EDWARD HOPPER
No more street cars
Passing by going who knows how far
One way record spins r
& b sways in smooth echo
Rocking this deserted diner to sleep
Smooth enough for the ears of us Nighthawks
Bulbs buzz strung up
Above the counter hung up
On nothing, no thoughts
At this sleepy street corner
Soft red stop light energy flows through the windows Smooth enough to illuminate the eyes of us Nighthawks
Ben B. // UNRAVELING – BASED ON EDWARD HOPPER’S “NIGHTHAWKS”
Pale light spills around me
but doesn’t provide warmth —
that’s the coffee between my hands
stale within its blank ceramic.
There’s something to unwinding
after a day that felt like two.
Here, the world waits patiently
as I unravel the day past.
This worn wooden counter has seen it all:
highs, lows, joy, defeat.
Ever unchanging, always a quiet cave
to sit and think.
So I sit and think.
The day unravels in my mind.
While outside sweeping glass windows
the wistful world sleeps.
Sirawich H // THE LAND OF SMILES
Smog and cars,
The bustle of night life in the streets
And markets filled with
spicy, sweet, and sour food
Modern malls filled the night skies
With light and life.
Temples and palaces
Filled with farang
From every corner of the globe.
Warm and sunny beaches,
Where farang outnumber the natives.
Crystal blue beaches,
Pure white sand,
Snorkeling and diving.
Paradise along the coast
The cool, crisp air amoung
The grand mountains and
Highlands filled with
Forests of life.
Long treacherous hikes
And elephant rides
In the morning mist.
The beauty of past and present,
Nature and humans,
Mixed into one grand place.
Christina Li // FILIAL PIETY
I sit beside the naive woman too infatuated to see the storm beneath his eyes as
she pins me to
sweltering humidity
smoke-ridden skies
sleepy farmlands.
To disapproving tongues
and wandering eyes undressing my thick American thighs
without consent.
To aging book paged hands with grime caked beneath fingernails
pinching my cheeks
too hard.
To blood bound strangers that smile at me through rear view mirrors
speaking in distant native tongues
To borrowed tastes
burning the back of my throat on the way down
turning my skin feverish.
I sit beside the naive woman
on the plane back as
tears of grief and relief intermingle.
Trevor Paul Tisdale // NIGHTHAWKS – BASED ON EDWARD HOPPER’S “NIGHTHAWKS”
1942, the middle of World War II, a reign not so delight,
A silent barren street wraps around the diner tonight,
Just three figures remain and a few hours until twilight,
Even with empty mugs these nighthawks won’t take flight.
Phillie’s, the tank full of glow that seeps and pours,
To cast a reverse shadow all over the opposite floor,
And while everyone else in the city sleeps and snores,
Nocturnal nighthawks stay alert without pressure to soar.
Sales down as the bartender hasn’t a busy shift to attend,
But someday he knows times will have to mend,
But in the meantime everyone’s got plenty of time to spend,
Because it feels this night will never end.
Sunny T. // AT THE SHORE
It shimmered in the sunlight along the ocean shore,
Enjoying the peaceful afternoon.
Lazily, lying in the golden sand, sunbathing.
Feeling the freshness of the sea breezes
the waves brought.
Waves,
Crashing onto the sand,
Beating its outer shell,
To scour every trace of dirt into the sea.
From its spiral open end,
I heard the sound of the ocean,
I heard seagulls calling,
I found myself roaming in the vast blue sea.
Alexis Thomas // A DARK EVENING’S SNOW
All is awake.
A simple walk,
A trek to the unknown
A leisurely trot through the beast.
Rich flowers bloom
Colors so strong you fall,
Unidentifiable nature
Feeling the warm turquoise sky
Clouds fill your thoughts with deja vu
Sentimentality draws your eyes
To a scarlett and tangerine fire
Fire creates all life.
Landscape adapts,
Golden velvet caresses your skin
Marking the last hour of light
Fill the night with delicate lace flakes
An easy wind painting the forest,
The blackest evening of the year,
A liquid moon looks in the mirror of a glass lake.
The birth of a new beauty.
Twilight is born,
Revealing shimmering and pure glares
Leave all alone
It will be there tomorrow
When untouched
For eternity
Hank S. // ALARM CLOCK
I go off
when my owner tells me to
He turns on me for a time
I make sure im up
For the time He set
Er Er Er Er I go off
He presses the stop button so I stop
Now he gets ready for another hard day at work
He usually just makes me alarm for the week
On the weekends
I get up at 6
My owner
around 12 he wakes
I am amazed
I could never
Sleep so long
With such tiredness
I’ve never had
Jonathan H. // GUANGZHOU, THE CITY OF RAMS
The old town of Guangzhou
Falls
In stark contrast,
With its downtown.
The effect of the years
Clear to the eye
Like Son and Grandson
In the downtown,
There are
vibrant lights
From the skyline
That scatter
As it reflects off
Of the ripples
In the Pearl River But not the old town
You take the metro
And probe your way
Through
Like a mouse
In a maze
To reach
Your destination,
But not the old town.
There are
restaurants
situated on rooftops.
With chairs woven
Out of bamboo
Around wooden tables,
Lit by
Flickering candles, and
Fairy lights on drapes
That hang
From its canopy.
But not the old town.
In the old town,
There are old men
In white vests
Playing mahjong
Around raw stone tables.
There are
stores,
With white marble walls
And signs written
In unsimplified characters
Try, the spicy
ginger juice which
Crashes into
Creamy milk, this
Concoction
Leaves you
Craving
For more
There are
Tea houses
With hip-and-gable rooftops
That served people
From the last
Imperial dynasty.
Here, the sweet
And smooth
Keemun Black Tea
Leaves a malty aftertaste
And tells a tale
Of the city’s past
Do come to Guangzhou. It is a place,
That beckons
The whole world
To come over.