Tag Archives: Ian Chung

roaches scuttled out in eagerness to survey their inheritance This is a reprint of work originally published in Four and Twenty. Ian Chung

Lunchtime and the city releases us, gasping for unrecycled air but lungs filling with smog, today’s egg sandwiches already gone soggy, while the plaza is packed by slim cut suits and ties. Traffic swerves and screeches, the acrid tang of … Continue reading →

After Thom Gunn When we wake in the night with the sheets tangled round our legs, we switch the light on/off without a sound, just checking to make sure who lies beside us here. Love grows by exploring the boundaries … Continue reading →

At Aigues-Mortes, I bring along Sarraute’s Enfance, subtly letting the locals know that I may be a tourist, but I am a true Francophone as well. The wind blows through the town square, toppling placards of restaurants that advertise exactly … Continue reading →

For ten hours we chew up asphalt, spitting out gravel in our wake, shaking dust off wheels. Unsettling, to realise that some borders are not discontinuities anywhere other than the mind. Fall asleep in France. Now wake up to find … Continue reading →

the sky is falling guess who has the last laugh now Chicken Little crows This is a reprint of work originally published in Three Line Poetry. Ian Chung

As you pace back and forth in front of the displays, I want to tell you things will not get any worse, that we will still make it. Except I am not sure what I would mean by that. Am … Continue reading →

The touch of air to bare skin is searing. But this is what I came here to witness, Stone against stone against sky against time. So I press the warm disembodied voice To my ear again. It says, listen on, … Continue reading →

hold me please hold me so I did as if a hug could shut out the smoke This is a reprint of work originally published in Three Line Poetry. Ian Chung

antennae twitching the meek venture forth into their new-made Eden This is a reprint of work originally published in escarp. Ian Chung

each sweep of the broom brings the floor one tile closer to how she saw it This is a reprint of work originally published in escarp. Ian Chung

two fistfuls of green on the ground gleaming with growth, glowing with green in a shade richer than the moss, not buried today by freak frost (there will always be tomorrow and its patient inclemencies), obscured instead by leaf litter … Continue reading →

Dear [name of ex-to-be],             There is no easy way             to break the news to you,             [blundered attempt at tact].             I just want you to know             [lame excuse or reason],             but I really am             [empty apology]             I will always treasure             [Hallmark … Continue reading →

anthocyanin fades what greenly glowing grows precipitously This is a reprint of work originally published in Haiku Journal. Ian Chung

Across the ceiling their bodies stretch: Adam recumbent in ease and not appearing too bothered, God straining to reach the image of Himself, as their fingertips almost touch. Deep within the heart of Vatican City, this space is an eloquent … Continue reading →

There are no subways in Florence, Rumbling underneath through tunnels. No underground parking spaces, Cavernous and fluorescent-lit. No underpasses, choking with The rush of locals and tourists. People move on the surface here, Across cobbled stone and gravel. What this … Continue reading →

Ice cubes clink in a glass. It isn’t just our drinks that are on the rocks now. So I offer you words. A mint or two or three to soothe your angry throat made hoarse by your own words. Don’t … Continue reading →

The patina of age lies heavily on your silverware. It dully gleams, lying on fine bone china scattered between us: another falsehood. I stack the moon-like plates, cratered by time’s passage. The flickering firelight accentuates the flaws of plate and … Continue reading →

I serendipity one boy and three girls frozen in a photograph that leaves uncaptured the warmth of something never confessed II their hushed promises echoed within this chamber till the dawn of day heralded the postman with new letters from … Continue reading →