ai yoga

Short Verses

the war
we walk into a blank court
where the little fox gazes at the bullet holes
that disappear into the wall

the query
would we be still together
playing side by side
with two brown burnt fruits?

the isolater
you make a seal on your lips
then walk across the door
which kids made of paper
selling their tickets to the summer players
where it was my kitchen before

the dream
for the ginger still in yellow
the fish fillet in the bowl
cold tea, and the windmill keeps turning
I decide to stay there

the expectation
skin to skin, we walk along the edge of the map, pass through the rail, the channel,
the desert and the ocean
just for, chasing a upcoming fishing season

the old letter
only weakest light I can adapt
where, your body changes into silverfishes
everything of you
as the raised flexo, wet and coralliform, in a blind’s Bible

the desires
enter the emptiness, the oysters
kiss your restless windpipe
repeat the silence
 
the messenger
the redbud blossoms scrawl in the air
sprinkling piece of the letters

the seducer
you write about yourself as a girl
who with medium-length hair, round cap
pressing long dust coat
raising up or drooping down of the eyelashes
lightenning out a smile like a thin slice of wind
they all look at you with a briefly flurried

the clown
when the sets and the audiences fade away
the light in the empty hut turns into twilight
the corners of his mouth suggests the least trace of impatience

the sequelae
you carve a rose, on my chest
each time, it blooms through my pain

the amnesia
your fading hair, poison voice,
snapped nail…
all blew away

the infatuation
the biggest circus, the biggest kaleidoscope, the biggest Red K
are not important

the addiction
a man in weeds have made me a fresh new lung
to, smoke you

the love
every movement of dance, each time I land
I find different places in you

the missing
I was the kid inside of the yolk who slept in the fridge
since,
you left

happy new year

Hi, I am so happy to hear from you again. my dear friends.

Sorry for my stillness…

It has been almost a year since I came to London. K and I had separated. He is in India with his new girl. I am still alone. Recently just quit the job in China town, trying to focus on my English study. Hope I can pass IELTS in the next coming months. Then I can apply for a film studying  MA course in London (seems to be the best option for my situation). On next April I will go to Germany again, give a workshop in Heidelberg university. and then may go back to London or go to India to get an other yoga certificate for my teaching. I should be able come back to London in summer. Continue to study or work here. Have been writing special column for the top Chinese news papers 3 times a week for almost half year. It starts to  give me enough money for a piece of bread and a single bed. Even though it requires a high rational happy mood to keep my cold and try humor in a light way to make the great laughs for my readers…also my book which about Tibetan in culture revolution should be able to come out in France soon …all thess plans and works , all sound good. And positive.

But I sometimes wake up with my grief and fighting with the emptiness.

It takes me a lot of energies. I have to meditate. To imagine a biger world out there, from my view of my tiny well. which extanding to the skies.

It’s not easy. My dear friends, when what I see it is just the gray roofs and the ice drops. I feel I nearly die. I feel I have seen the winter of Sylvia Plath here.

I thought I was capable of being hurting. But this winter is really cold.

 any way….I wish I can be more stronger.

I miss you all and wish you a happy new year.

Insomnia

i was listening  Insomnia all night long. Faithless.i know i have to wake up 8 or 9. but i can not sleep…I CAN NOT SLEEP SOMETHING ALL OVER ME.

 in the next coming 11 hours, i will be sent into an other tiny pill box. a massage room in china town. the frist light of the dawn will penetrate the cheap curtains into the empty hand sink, the heat will still be off before the customers coming. must be very cold there at the early morning? isnt it…now i am laying on my bed with my twisted legs and feeling the temperature 37.2 from my pores , picturing the massage room on the gray wall where i use to gaze.

 i dare not to tell you so far, my dear.the things happen to me here. well…simply, for the short version. i left him, the one who said in front of  you he would take care of me and yes he thought he did, he finally brought me to here. should i be greatly appreciated? i thought i was. but anyway, now he didnt love me anymore, he is going to india to see his new girl. “it was my fault!” he reminds me about that frequently and subconsciously.

God is A DJ.

anyway, i was forced out by THE MISTAKES I MADE , homeless,IN the rain with the people where they hear their hurts. he gave me 4 days to move out from the house we used to call HOME, while i had no enough money and no place to stay. so i threw most of my things away and moved into a pill box in canning town. remeber you told me your mom brought you to a small town far away from Paris and when you got off the broken truck that was nothing over there? it was just like that. but it was fine. i built it up, a little cd case, a book case ,and the gifts you gave me ,i put them on one of my boxes. when i look at them, or the little crying monkey, i feel i am on the train.  you are waiting for me at one of the stations when time returns to the summer of 2005,  you are still fucking young and handsome, we hug and laugh and Del is there with us too. i have been missing you all, badly.

i got a part time job in china town, its one of the red light district in soho. there are many models and the perfume with the smell of bodies waving around, so complex and dynamic. they love to ejaculate into their mouths but you can not tell what happen when they are wearing a nice lipstick and carrying a little LV bag passing by. i only work there for 2 days a week which is fine for me and there is a gay bar near by that you would love it very much. the shop is a professional chinese medicine shop and the note on the wall says:  YOU CAN NOT DO ANYTHING ILLEGALLY. i will take a photo and send it to you.

one of my colleagues who is chinese lady , was kicked out by her husband,  she got a ordinary face but a beautiful nose. i have been seeing her crying few times in the corner of the dark red stairs. one time, she was asked to do a handjob by an Acha(the Indian men who used to be called like that in a hongkong slang ), she refused him and he shouted to her and rejected to pay until the shopkeeper almost had to call the police. but i have been told some other ladies they would do. in this area, for one hand job they could get 50 pounds. for one normal massage we could only get 15 pounds/an hours.

i never feel so close to them. they are  actually dramaticlly into a part of my life now. as i am an insect walking alone inside of their organs, how much i have to walk carefully and not getting too bitter from the biles around me, i am affaid of that i can not even keep the right to be felt as i am still clean after i come out from those organs.

but i never never and never look down  those ladies. please just imagine how difficult if i would had to touch these MEN , the ones who got the money and power but also ridiculously got a bunch of hard dicks in front of the void.

hand job is all about only 2 steps. one: like a dog chases the dicks. two: like a human picks the money. i can not do each of them, but i dont look down the popele who can bear it. because NOW I CAN TELL IT IS A most FUCKING HARD JOB in this world.

the lady with a beautiful nose who was kicked out by her English husband asked me that if i could help her to find a place to stay for 2 weeks yesterday. she used to sleep in the massage bed when the shop closing. but there is no heating at the middle of the night and the boss got really upset when he noticed it. i guess last night, she must be freezing …i feel so sorry i dont have any place to place her. my bed is so narrow as a sharp broken boat aside of the river, and i dont even have any blanket which i could simply cover her. but she went like that:”thanks! thank you very much. thank you…”

i met the other lady in the shop oneday, she came to me with a brilliant smile. she is over 55 or so. but i told her she looks like 46. that was a lie. i dont know when i have been becoming a liar. i  massaged her with my elbows and observed her body: her breasts was cut off by cancer there are few seams on her chest which like a personal leather map. her face was terribly poor done by a failing skin grafting, all the skins are over pulled into the scalp just like a rubber with a sausage. her addomen told me that she had given a birth away to a baby many years ago. her toes were so thin and the red nail polish made it more thiner. she was so gothic, but THIS IS NOT funny. i treated her as the queen of Egypt, she gave me 10 pounds tip. i told her i do massage for woman in their home but not for man, and i only charge 30 pounds which is much cheaper than the shops.and i could come over anytime. she called me the next morning, she asked me to come over and do one more work to her.she told me she lives with her daughter.

the place near by oxford street, and the house is unbelievable rich with the jewish style. she was so weak when the door was opened. she looked like the last ant in the busy ant’s traffic before the storm arriving. “i am not sure if i should tell you i just work here, sorry, i told the lie and i dont live with my daughter right the moment, she lives quite far away from london.”

“never mind”. i said. i told the lie too.

she leaded me into her room, actually, she did not even has a room, the room she could stay briefly was belong to the little daugther of the owner. and in an other room where next by it looked just like a standard hour hotel but she did not allowed to sleep there as well. when i finished, she gave me 4 pounds as the tip,the hard english coins, and the sound of the coins were so pleasing. i took it and hugged her and asked her to take care of herself and LEFT.

on my way home i was thinking of her. she may have a lot of good memeries, but she is alone. she is lonely. i could smell her solitude. her low and salty temprature was lingering on my hands until i got off the tube.

few days later she told me she is fired. and she have to go kent or somewhere she could stay for a few days. i have no idea where is she now.

my dear, the deepest discrimination is that the people you love they think you are DIRTY. so i have to remind myself i am an artist when i massage those nerves.

her smile

today i saw the most beautiful smile on her face:Xu hua, my dear Chinese friend, who grew up in the same background as i did. who live here alone like a tropical plant. who spent all night encouraging me and pointing a bright way for my future…when i was huging her and said bye, her body was so petite but warm. i know there is always a shinning stone firmly and strongly siting underneath of her river, not matter how does she flow. what a lovely lady! i will miss her badly when i am on the trip.

Leaving Las Vegas

today started to prepare the trip for Germany. not much things to carry with me though. my laptop and a little Canon camera, the copies of the films, a book called One day. some clothes. guess that’s it. even though on some way i have gave up my heavy baggages(my goal is that throw all my costly things away), but still got one thing to carry, that is my polygonal souls. now they are all activated, automatically jump into my bodies, painting my heart with a piece of blood red smear or a cloud of darkgray… i can not just FLY like that, they have made me much heavier than all my baggages. 

when Buddha begged alms, he never ask for the meal of the next day. perhaps that’s the last thing i need to learn in my life.

suddenly remembered Leaving Las Vegas, the only work of John O’Brien. no one knows why he killed himself before the book was published. anyway, he didnt ask for the next meal as well.