Stanford Cheung
Six Poems
Traffic rises Schwarzschild smoke
Grain ceiling imprints
A major part of dust nets the horizon
Silkworms lend boundaries limitless tents
Chamber Courts Trespasser Void
A sail repelling in property
inching tempo Bodies like a word
crackle Warmth treatment hits
the head Crumble; what we call
debt The fire in the cork leaves
Seconds exist; wanted
Lines become frozen; unlit
Scrubbed; Scrubbed
ф
Jump through semicascade at which
smudges scrabble, exit
intentions and beaming scrapers
end,
[a] progression there, anaphora
shift, We
host the blue tapestry made of
seams as colors of color tuck
in warrant Their syntax open
redshift, The space
picked in half A flag half wrung
but raining forms
pull and force purposes Worn
rope and other surgeries hang fluent
ф
Fast clocks attest accretion
Statements tick statements middle to none
Soon so rumors of a coma patient
walk with sturdier fixations answered
Hands outstretched links womb
through bills
not far from rocks and evolved rocks
lay protagon
downslope are operations
decades or so passed,
They constitute a park
ф
Clear counterfeit on arsenic
Touch down moons
Creator of paradise found
Tanned road blackbirds
Can soles trace feet
Tis riddle partial
ф
Because the freckle The queen
in the crown coins a universe to years
Mercury’s favorite saying admits
currency as human form
Dilate as in dividing
Map as in basement
The theatre summing to summer
inner worlds multiply
Maze amaze the bottom belly
Some part pigment pass as inventions
piston cork, strike handkerchief drift
and a word
Good friends yawp robe hiss
ф
The cityfront matrix retrogrades
What can I say
Then inflation Then inflation
It is everywhere
Stanford Cheung is a poet and musician with work appearing in Ricepaper, X-Peri, and Nomadic Journal. He is the author of the forthcoming full-length collection Structures from the Still (Akinoga Press, 2018). His chapbooks include Kite Extension (Words(on)Pages) and Any Seam or Needlework (The Operating System). He lives in Toronto.
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Six Poems
Traffic rises Schwarzschild smoke
Grain ceiling imprints
A major part of dust nets the horizon
Silkworms lend boundaries limitless tents
Chamber Courts Trespasser Void
A sail repelling in property
inching tempo Bodies like a word
crackle Warmth treatment hits
the head Crumble; what we call
debt The fire in the cork leaves
Seconds exist; wanted
Lines become frozen; unlit
Scrubbed; Scrubbed
ф
Jump through semicascade at which
smudges scrabble, exit
intentions and beaming scrapers
end,
[a] progression there, anaphora
shift, We
host the blue tapestry made of
seams as colors of color tuck
in warrant Their syntax open
redshift, The space
picked in half A flag half wrung
but raining forms
pull and force purposes Worn
rope and other surgeries hang fluent
ф
Fast clocks attest accretion
Statements tick statements middle to none
Soon so rumors of a coma patient
walk with sturdier fixations answered
Hands outstretched links womb
through bills
not far from rocks and evolved rocks
lay protagon
downslope are operations
decades or so passed,
They constitute a park
ф
Clear counterfeit on arsenic
Touch down moons
Creator of paradise found
Tanned road blackbirds
Can soles trace feet
Tis riddle partial
ф
Because the freckle The queen
in the crown coins a universe to years
Mercury’s favorite saying admits
currency as human form
Dilate as in dividing
Map as in basement
The theatre summing to summer
inner worlds multiply
Maze amaze the bottom belly
Some part pigment pass as inventions
piston cork, strike handkerchief drift
and a word
Good friends yawp robe hiss
ф
The cityfront matrix retrogrades
What can I say
Then inflation Then inflation
It is everywhere
Stanford Cheung is a poet and musician with work appearing in Ricepaper, X-Peri, and Nomadic Journal. He is the author of the forthcoming full-length collection Structures from the Still (Akinoga Press, 2018). His chapbooks include Kite Extension (Words(on)Pages) and Any Seam or Needlework (The Operating System). He lives in Toronto.
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