Walking with You, Always
Go Your Own Way
Had we lived on the plains of Siberia,
I would have let you go–
to chase prairie dogs,
to rub your nose on tiny wild daffodils,
to roll in the mud,
to live your remaining days...
Running after butterflies…
walking with delight on things that decay…
getting lost in the bush…
touching heaven with your paws...
chewing magic herbs and hallucinate...
drifting and dreaming...
barking at your little imaginary friends and enemies along the way...
Leaving this realm,
and leaving us, slowly, with fainter and fainter memories
to continue your journey–
of no return–to go your own way.
But this is a city, a human world.
I don't want them to find you one day
lying in the streets, lamed.
With people staring and saying,
"a sick and dying dog”,
to give you four days and then
drag you away
in a black garbage bag.
You belong to the wolf gang, I know.
But in this human world
you do it the human way … and
do not make me cry by running away.
As I too, have to go my own way.
This is the only magic we can do together—
walking with you always—in this poem—our way.
by Elbert Lee
Elbert Siu Ping Lee grew up in Hong Kong, where he currently lives. He has also spent some years studying and working in Canada and New Zealand.
He is the author of the poetry collection Rain on the Pacific Coast, published by Proverse Hong Kong, 2013.
Other poems of his have appeared in Quixotica–Poetry collection commemorating the 400th death anniversary of Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Chameleon Press, 2016; Twin Cities, Voice and Verse Poetry Magazine, 2017; Desde Hong Kong: Poets in conversation with Octavio Paz. Eds. German Munoz, Tammy Ho, & Juan Jose Morales, Chameleon Press, 2014; Fifty/Fifty: A New Anthology of Hong Kong Writing. Ed. Xu Xi, Haven Books, 2008; Hong Kong Poems, an English-German Anthology. Eds. L. Ho & K. Stierstorfer, Stauffenburg, Tübingen, 2007.
He was a member of the League of Canadian Poets (2017-2019).
Issue 9
Dear Deer
A leap second is inserted
between a horn and the horn
Deer crackers and firecrackers
attempt to sing the greatest song, Dear D
Enjoy your sumptuous feast, Nara Park
growing into huge castle and galaxy
The tribe of stone lanterns
guides us to deerful tribes and
the milky way, hazy band of rhapsodic light
creates flying rocks, passing through both horns
Kasuga Shrine and stars exchange glances
harmonizing a scale with raindrops
A leap second is inserted
between a castle and our castle
by Gloria Au Yeung
Gloria Au Yeung is a poet, poetry translator, copywriter and traveller who was born and raised in Hong Kong. Her poems have appeared in several magazines like Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine, Off the Roll, Poetry+ and Qiu Ying Shi Kan, etc. She received the Youth Literary Awards (Poetry) in 2004 and 2005. Currently, she’s working on a creative project called 'Poetic Cuisine'.
From an animal's perspective ...
Out Of the Barn
I was born in the Year of the Horse, and I work like a horse. I do not tire until sweat forms on my flanks and foam comes from my mouth.
I’m a smart horse, as horses go. If rain starts to fall while I’m working outside, I know enough to seek shelter under a roof. I won’t stand in a field and get wet. Cows and less-smart horses might not mind getting rained on, but I do.
Once inside the barn, I might feel a little trapped. I’ll want to get out again as soon as the rain stops. If no one opens the barn door, I’ll have to let myself out, even if I have to kick down a wall. I have one horsepower; I can perform 550 foot-pounds of work per second. That strength is more than enough to splinter an old wood obstacle.
Once I’m out of the barn, it will hard to put me back in. When people see me and say, “The horse is out of the barn!” they’ll know it’s too late. I won’t be trapped in my stall anymore. I will be out in a field, maybe on my way to the forest as a free horse, already sweating from my hide and foaming at my mouth.
The War Between Cats and Dogs
This war has been going on a long time—for ages, if not eons. The animosity has been instinctive; one of us has always gone after the other. Oh, it is written that the wolf will dwell with the lamb, and the leopard will lie down with the kid. But how will the dog lie down with the cat? Will we cuddle in the dog’s house, or in the cat’s bed? Is either place big enough for both of us? We could lie down in a barn, but there are few barns and many dogs and cats. The lucky ones might find a loft filled with hay, where the cat might carve out a spot and the dog might flop onto the straw. But those cats and dogs will be the exceptions to the rule of constant antagonism.
As a bottom dog, I can attest to the conflict. I can tell you my thoughts, though I am not able to speak (except in the silly way of a dog trick, one syllable at a time). Whenever I meet a cat—in the home, on the sidewalk, in the yard—there is no tail wagging, or cheek rubbing. We both freeze; the cat lowers his or her head to the ground, and I take a cautious whiff to find out what’s up. In the middle of my sniffing, I’ll hear a hiss, see the flick of a paw, and feel the swipe of a claw. The effect will be unpleasant, especially on the nose. I will be tempted to snap back with my powerful jaws and bisect my opponent, but the cat will move too fast, jumping to higher ground and leaving me to bark in my one syllable of dogspeak.
Does the top dog fare any better than I? Can the top dog command deference from an angry cat? I think not, but the top dog might be able to summon a group of dogs—from the top, middle, and bottom ranks—to subdue the cat. This platoon of bloodthirsty dogs may cow the cat, unless it is a top cat. A top cat, you see, could summon a group of cats—of all sizes and shapes—to confront the army of dogs. In this event, you would have a mass of snarling, yapping dogs going against a herd of hissing, yowling cats. The racket would be unholy. Fur would fly. Some dogs would have their day, while scaredy-cats would run. The floor or pavement or grassy spot would be littered with fallen animals. I don’t look forward to that result, but I’m no diplomat or arbitrator. I’m not even a little child, prepared to lead the biblical wolf, lamb, leopard and kid to a place where we can all lie down. I’m a bottom dog, and I answer when called.
both prose poems by Thaddeus Rutkowski
Thaddeus Rutkowski is the author of seven books, most recently Tricks of Light, a poetry collection. His novel Haywire won the members’ choice award from the Asian American Writers’ Workshop in New York. He teaches at Medgar Evers College in Brooklyn and received a fiction writing fellowship from the NY Foundation for the Arts. He lives with his wife, Randi Hoffman, in Manhattan.
Louis Wong
Red Rabbit
2022
Acrylic, marker pens, oil pastels on paper
Louis Wong
Girl and Her Eagle
2022
Acrylic, marker pens, oil pastels on paper
Louis Wong expresses his communication with the chaotic world outside through portraiture. He tells stories of human beings struggling with manifold thoughts and tensions in their innermost souls. His works show the strength of each character as they face the challenges of various environments and encounters in life.
Louis is a self-taught artist who makes painting his language. His first solo exhibition at MM² Café in Wan Chai in 2021 was followed by the consecutive exhibitions at Yrellag Gallery, Gowld Art Centre, Mini Central (hotel) and Cattle Depot Artist Village in 2022 and the latest one at Yrellag Gallery in 2023.