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Shi Feimi Poem
The trash bag at my door—gone, someone took it.
In the shared hall, I see a ghost from years ago.
A glance, three short lines, one long breath—
We look at each other like catching, releasing ghosts.
Do we both think the other’s faking it?
The line between man and phantom is only light.
A few ghost-words, truth-words—thank you—
Thanks to her, crossing over to hand me a napkin.
And antibiotics? A hospital chief stopped them all.
The ICU patients with lung disease began to heal.
The rest of the doctors fell silent,
Stopped asking why. That’s ghost talk.
A gust of wind becomes cloud.
A small illness, a ghost beneath the skin.
Copyright © Shi feimi | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Shi Feimi Poem
Seal the mountains, the peaks, the city—
The little emperor rides waves like in Shanghai Bund.
In the end, the man who loved beauty became a rifle.
Where is the man-made bathing pool atop that mountain?
The princely courage, allies in accord,
Carried martial genes, shamanic rhythms,
Carried cells of herbs and discipline, anti-entropy.
Like Zhang Xianzhong sinking treasure into the Min River—his final aesthetic.
He believed only in genetic revenge,
Mocking blossoms, young girls, and green plums in May.
Some tradition loved empire but mistook beauty.
It collapsed in his beautiful feed for the kingdom.
A sliver of beauty—madness moved in,
A sprite watered by greed,
Denied by earth and the abyss’s breath.
( Poems by Shifeimi
Translated from Chinese by AI with authorial editing and final approval.)
Copyright © Shi feimi | Year Posted 2025
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