by Jenny Cai
Tracing a butterfly,
lost in the field.
Following the breadth of early spring,
blew ten cornemuses.
Chasing a low flying hawk,
treaded into a wasteland.
Ascending sixty meters to a chimney top,
touched the falling dusk.
The cold sticky tongue of growling factories behind you.
The teetering fear of height across the spine of you.
To the silent death of distant buds.
To the lost voices of birds and beasts in smother.
West wind’s second attempt to twist your neck.
You are wanted for your effortless joy from solitude.
City lights carve straight lines across your palm-prints.
Joint name of macrolepidopteran clade Rhopalocera order Lepidoptera
[Jenny Cai is a third-year BA student, majoring in philosophy and psychology. She has always loved poems, she believes music and poem are the two forms of art that are the closest to the nature of things, which is beyond the descriptive power of normal linguistic conventions. She started writing poems in Chinese (her first language) about half a year ago, she mostly writes about psychological experiences, such as the experience of consciousness, time, self. She is also interested in how our internal world interacts with our surroundings, especially in the chaotic disorder of the 21st century.]