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Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé, 11 june 2012

Cipher


You would have known the signs of a harsher winter, and smelt it in the drier air. You would have sensed legacy in the ordinary. You would have known when the soil was ready for spring, and its brambles and bloodroot and later, the azaleas.
 
I have to return Gerard his favorite book. It’s (... więcej)


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Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé, 11 june 2012

Excerpts from Antediluvian Birdsong, After The Stormy Dark

They doused the salted field with iodine and dreams.
“Except for the barley, let those keep their gold and morning.”
Logos, but for letters.
 
~
 
There will be snow and rain, same day of fine things.
Mixed up. Mixed, enamel in champlevé
damascening like a dance, the curling, whey hope. (... więcej)


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Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé, 17 november 2012

ding an sich :: thing in itself

There is a stillness in the air, like the mendicant with his begging bowl. He doesn’t ask for alms, only food like a bowl of cooked rice. The old lady scrapes some from the bottom of her wok, charred and bits of black, and hands it to the boy outside her window. She gestures towards the mendicant, (... więcej)


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Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé, 17 november 2012

cogito ergo sum :: I think therefore I am


How does one plunder something like peace of mind? The old pirate looks strange with his sarong bag in the bustle of Zhejiang. Even the eye-patch is there, but hardly ornamental or a political statement. There’s a long scar down his left eye, thick and callused, as if to say this story is one that (... więcej)


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Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé, 17 november 2012

féte champétre :: rustic festival


There is garbage outside the gas station. A single mound of used furniture. A love seat, mildewed with blotchy stains. A foldable table, its missing leg ten yards away. The attendant’s wife is walking around with a gigantic tarpaulin bag, half-filled with things. Her daughter is seated on the pavement, (... więcej)


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Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé, 10 june 2012

A Near-Point Decree


Near another Lunar New Year, Marilyn Levine is tired of making briefcases and jackets out of ceramics and zippers when Michael Lucero tells her to restore the candour, his Roman statue wishing the coathanger had the same red as the teapot. This evening, the dakinis expect a conchoidal fracture. (... więcej)


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Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé, 10 june 2012

A Gifting Direction


“Who here thinks we’ve done enough window shopping?” The Sixth Dakini is caterwauling, yodels from the Apennines. “Who here wants a new harvest of radish for Ganapati so he’ll live with us in the African baobabs?” The local government is in cahoots with the other deities on the picula (... więcej)


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Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé, 10 june 2012

A Proto-Indo-European Herd


The First Dakini understood Cavafy’s need to summon the horses of Achilles with their amber eyes gazing down at a wilting Patroklus. Ovid tried to do the same, exhorting Raymon Elozua to channel them first through a digital print, then with the same success he had with terracotta and steel. But (... więcej)


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Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé, 10 june 2012

A Sonorous Altruism


“If you can’t find my hairdryer,” the Second Dakini says, “there’s the Bradley in the restroom.” The Bradley can be meaningfully worked into the Third Dakini’s slab of brick clay, now tightly wrapped in plastic to help keep in the moisture. “Clay reconstitutes itself,” the Second (... więcej)


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Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé

Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé, 10 june 2012

A Broken Family

“No one likes a social malady,” the Third Dakini says, unscrolling the rural ordinance against terrace-farming anywhere in or around Arusha National Park. That leaves David Meltzer’s apple chapter with the nagaraja holding a jam biscuit by its teeth, its belly pre-dynastic and egg-shaped. It’s (... więcej)


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Other prose: féte champétre :: rustic festival, cogito ergo sum :: I think therefore I am, ding an sich :: thing in itself, Terry Crabtree’s Countertransference in To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything!, Locked Into Dualism, First Consciousness, Somewhere in Middlemarch, Dorothea Brooks in Hell’s Kitchen, Invisibility, Excerpts from Antediluvian Birdsong, After The Stormy Dark, Cipher, A Near-Point Decree, A Gifting Direction, A Proto-Indo-European Herd, A Sonorous Altruism, A Broken Family,
 

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