zoo logic

you can only squish and squish life

but life will still exist
		         and persist...

you can step on my head
push me into the sand, stab your feet into
my body and flesh, stamp me so deep

sink
me
to
the hardest bedrock beneath land
(beneath underground oceans)
the flattest earth

and i will acquiesce

each 
   stomp
         &
i am just a smaller, more indivisible element

of life:

crush me my skull is made a mammal, a rat that
lives and plays with birds as dinosaurs,
skin me i am the flesh of plants prehistoric,
protozoa blood if you break my bones to fine powder
i am alive the trillions of trillions of bacteria
conquest chiefs of empire immemorial,
the greatest civilizations
that outlast your thought-logic ideology.

when i cease to stand i am the mammal,
bird,
reptile,
fish,
plant,
mineral
buried beneath your skyscrapers sunglasses,

i am the illegible forest that grows in circles
and fractals
	    around your knotted tongue,
the
bladed grass pushing through the cracks..


you can spread my ashes (embers) but you'll never put out my flame.

mnmlst: new favourite blog

Sometimes I think that I complicate my life by setting up rules: ‘this’ diet is the best diet, so if I follow ‘these’ rules then I will have the perfect body and feel like holy water. Little do I know, this adds complexity to my life that makes it harder to live; life can be lived by rules, but the more you have, the more you run into problems when the rules overlap.

So here’s a couple links to two favourite posts of the day. The first is on living by ‘paring ideas,’ a process of living that values flow and natural change. This metaphor can be used in many domains of life, including writing, creating, sculpting, living, etc.

The second post is on what it means to be a person in the modern day. Or what it means to be a person in a universal sense…at least, that’s how I take it: sometimes you need to work a little bit to buy your freedom to be. Know who you are and do what it takes to be that. If you’re a monk, do what it takes to be a monk. Do what makes your soul come alive, but don’t sell part of it in the process.

paring ideas

I am not a brewer

Happy Thursday. Don’t let the rain weigh you down.

humiliation day

it
is
july
first

the day when people gather under
glimmering, shimmering fireworks,
candescent coalescent explosions
of joy
awe

&
childhood..

but
in the quiet of my mind
the calm hum in the ambience of my thoughts
there sits an ivory lady dressed in jade;
behind a gilded red curtain

she says,
"can you hear me? i am your ancestor,
	the ethereal phantom of your past,
		the beginning of our ancient bloodlines...

i'm here because though you would call this day 'canada day'
there is a history that no one will tell you,
but here in the quiet of mind you can remember
that this used to be our humiliation,
that the happy and proud people you share this day with
were once banished from voting,
separated by marriage,
forced to pay two-months =
two
YEARS'
salary...

so grandma could eat,
so auntie could learn,
so great uncle would be able to come
(eventually)
to
ca na da,
	and pull rickshaws..

today was once called 'dominion day'
and was celebrated by the white state that would
have your hands for railroad planks,
and feet for steel wheels,
but not allow you to be equal..."


so today i march on
waving a dragon flag
under the golden sun...

and under the night sky,
painted in pastel purple and red
in my heart i remember:

that a battle unfinished
is a battle not lost




and not won.


July 1st, 1923 was the first “Humiliation Day” as it was called by Chinese-not-Canadians when the Dominion of Canada enacted the Chinese Exclusion Act – which prevented many Chinese people to immigrate. Many married couples and children were separated for years, decades, and some never reunited in their lifetimes. They are the never-knew-their-dad people and the paper sons (immigrants who were only related on forged documents). Though my own family never paid the Chinese Head Tax, it still prevented my dad and Grandma and Great Aunt from coming to Canada for five years, meaning Grandpa was only an imaginary person to my dad for his first years of life. I choose today to remember this shame and how it continues to affect us in the present day.