John Yau Poems

It is said, the past
sticks to the present

like glue,
...

The world weeps. There are no tears
To be found. It is deemed a miracle.
The president appears on screens
In villages and towns, in cities in jungles
...

I used to be a plastic bottle

I used to be scads of masticated wattle

I used to be epic spittle, aka septic piddle
...

As you may have inferred, Ka Pow is not a spicy chicken dish
Meanwhile, you are an accident waiting to repurpose yourself

Who are you to mix up languages? This is not a smorgasbord
You have to remember that you are a cylinder, a form of fodder
...

They are dying out and I want to reach them before they are gone
Not that I know what I would say to them when I get there
Their songs rippling beneath temporary sky
As I approach, as I am doing now
...

Come live with me
And we will sit

Upon the rocks
By shallow rivers
...

It had to be from someone whose grandparents were born in Shanghai
not the city's greatest citizens, but certainly among the sober ones
to make their small now eroded mark
...

It does not do you like it
Imperfect copy's forgery
Posts its vermillion decree
These anointed mistakes
...

Or is it
a poor trait

I am a
parasite
...

There are rooftops
made of cloud remnants

gathered by a trader
dabbling in car parts and burlap
...