Chinese Buffet Poem by Daniel Y.
Chinese Buffet
The mound becomes conscious
as vegetables stack
who am I?
orange chicken- tsao
rice fried, and chow mein.
Noodles tangle.
Questions are not bound by the bone-china bowl.
what is my purpose?
perhaps the next great poet
or philosopher
Spicy notes ring within it's core.
But this earth-tone collage
is short-lived.
And succumbs to the molar mangle.
why?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 11:30:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I can't tell if you enjoyed your dinner or not! If the Chinese Buffet you went is anything like the ones all over the Twin Cities. I'd say - probably not. because they offer too many dishes for any one to be special. I think you reacting to that overkill. Quantity is simply not quality. This is an eastern journey today - from a Japanese garden to a Chinese buffet and now to reincarnation. It's a whole lifecycle!