Author: William Xu Each entrance, a thunderstorm rage Darkness converges Rain blurring every scene Each exit, a glass of lemonade right away Sunlight dances from the balcony Onto green, dewed leaves Each promise, a child’s vision of the bay Beyond the mountains Over silent waves on the sea Each parting, a season changes A time


Author: Wiliiam Xu You suffer to look at me, Memories, miles, miles away and deep. Like waves on a soaring sea, Sounds that reverberate In an extemporized melody. You fractured into pieces, In the crevices low, low beneath. Nostalgia keeps me, pain stings me like bees. Sadness seeps from my blue, watery eyes, As you


Author: William Xu White shirt on the willow leaves, Winds in the willows dips the surface Warm water of the lake that he swims in; His mother thinks of her boy as a wannabe: What his father shall be he shall be. For the “wanderlust” kid, she needn’t open her door; He will return home

A Dark Thought

Author: William Xu Winter sky, color of lead, Lights mostly drained. Standing, staring at the water, Hypnotizing myself, the way That kids do. My face unclear on the water beneath Fast-flowing, foaming Shallow, shale stream. With lots of leaves. Suddenly, Moving slower and slower; Now I’m the one moving Falling into the water Falling somehow


Author: William Xu To abide by time, sounds are calling Travelers that wander across the prairie, Have peace in life, for their delights increase. Blessed be the mountains and rains, for the shadows And showers they offer, always graciously. To love my friends and my lover, Equally, like the river that rambles on, Reading every

Olivia’s Theme

Author: William Xu I          Olivia heard the sounds. Low in volume, but rich and orchestrated—reverberating—swinging up and down—rhymed in euphonious patterns, then tattered in thousands of pieces—not loud, yet ceaseless. The rustling sounds of the sea kept her half-awake, imposing a spell on her, that kept her mind fatigued and eyes closed, but conscious

Monsoon Forever

Author: William Xu            Wendy’s life during summertime was largely measured, and she found the expression “I am in this world, but not of it” quite appealing to her. Regardless of what it really meant, it had the flair and wisdom to it that impelled her to adopt it as her motto. Days were getting

Flowers for May

Author:William Xu All mourning, the sky had colors of a winter’s dusk—deep, depressing dark. A flood of mist crept amidst the forest and up towards me, like an amorphous water creature, across the great flanks of hills which were now consumed in ocean depths and shadows. Barely visible above the vapor was a solitary peak