Poetry from Yucheng Tao

Where am I

where am i

an extremely

cold stream

soot-streaked trees

desolate

& bare mountain

grains grow

in the roses

but 

the roses reach

into the vast tracts

the wheat is dancing

beneath obsidian clouds

the rain kisses the roses 

with tender lips

where am i

there are no peacocks

crowned in rainbow hues
there are no hummingbirds

alight in beams

there is no shimmering lake

to mirror Eden’s vision

i’ve forgotten 

i am cast out from 

the Garden of Eden

hard to harvest my soul

whispering for the time past

choking back my tears

praying

until my spirit recovers—

after

leaving god

Blue Horse

We had seen the bold and blue horse
in my dream; its strong body,
like a horse on the prairie,
like a cowboy’s horse.
It could fight, it could run.

In our hearts,
we once rode a blue horse
in our dreams,
galloping in the land of freedom.

Some pain was like a lean horse,
running fast for a moment before collapsing.

Because my sister and I—

our memories didn’t fade.
There was some joy in them,
fresh as the blue horse.

Sometimes we lacked the courage
to carry ourselves far enough to escape our family—
a home filled with liquor bottles.
Father’s face was red,
quarreling and fighting.

Illness took you away;
you never broke free from the cage.
The funeral flowers mirrored
your snow-white skin—
it was your grand festival.

In death, you become weightless.
Death carries you on a blue horse
to a place of freedom.

Minotaur

The Art Institute into Tuesday’s snow.

When my eyes opened, I was trapped in the museum’s labyrinth (Tiny as a shadow). Unknown monsters faced me, horns casting twin shadows. / Hallucination? / /Blood! People! / I want to escape the twisted halls. /

/ Too vast, the museum warped into impossible geometry. / / Blood, blood, blood, the Minotaur drinking museum’s lights like wine. / / I saw the monster devour the soul of a person, and the Minotaur ate the monsters, as if history endlessly repeats itself. /

/ Just like two sides of history’s dark mirror. / / I couldn’t separate myth from memory. The monster becomes real only in relation to trauma; both past and present might be true or false. /

/ b / bl / bla / / b, bla, b, black black black black black sun sun sun sun sun / I exorcise Munich’s beer hall memories, 1923 to1933, darkness envelops Chicago snow. I try to comprehend-histories. Outside the painting, only one museum, Inside the painting, multiple wars, The ghosts of WWII, European ghosts, red and black, bleeding.

As the Minotaur devours monsters, I seek meaning in chaos. Especially beneath the museum’s artificial lights, I remember what Minotaur told me: “The survivors of horror become storytellers, and all stories and human are one.”

In this moment, the endless snow falls silent. The black sun falls silent. Like human of memory. Like history coming to a still. Back to reality, everything is fine. I am enjoying  Picasso’s Minotaur with ease.

Yucheng Tao is an international student, who has been studying songwriting at MI College of Contemporary Music in Los Angeles. His work won the Open Them Wingless Dreamer 2024 contest, and Moonstone Art Center published it.

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