I wanted to keep working with Chinese--I just knew there was something there--so I tried a number of techniques using online translators with different source material until I found something I was pleased with. In fact, despite the late nights and the frustration, I am really, really happy with the way my chapbook turned out. In the meantime, however, I have dozens of poems using a variety of techniques that just didn't "fit" (oh, how I tried to make them work). Here are a couple of those poems:
I heard footsteps behind in 1969
life extracted from an old body
the deer licked the blood
and fell to the ground
into the opened coffin went the truth
and threw out the corpse
even fly in the right hands
you still owed the valley some fighting
now without a ghost of hope
Kingpins of tin-poisoned arrogance
anxiously worship the game.
seeking maps for the right disaster.
Profit exists in chaos—
in waste after overthrow.
Soldiers given crowns without swords,
warfare without battle,
bare, carbon nobility
left as hanging meat for the forest.
Pain is its own end
when compassionate rape is law.