Yidan Han

  Contributing Editor:
  Kyle David Anderson

Lois P. Jones

Lois P. Jones is a host of Pacifica Radio's “Poet's Café” (KPFK 90.7 fm), and co-host of the Moonday series in West Los Angeles. Her work was included in Narrative Magazine, American Poetry Journal, Nassau Review, Askew and many others. She is the winner of the 2012 Tiferet Prize, the 2012 Liakoura Prize. She is the poetry editor of Kyoto Journal and a multiple Pushcart nominee.

洛伊丝-琼斯,太平洋电台“诗人的咖啡厅”主持人,并在西洛杉矶共同主持月日系列。她的作品发表在叙事杂志,美国诗歌杂志,纳萨评论等。她的作品获得了不少荣誉。她是2012年Tiferet奖和2012 Liakour的获得者。洛伊丝是京都杂志的诗歌编辑,多次获得Pushcart提名。


Anna Yin

星子安娜,Anna Yin中国湖南出生。99年移民加拿大,其英文诗多次获奖,其中包括 2005 年安省的“Ted Plantos 纪念奖”和2010 年和2013年 的“Martry文学奖“。星子著有五本诗集,包括《Wings Toward Sunlight》(2011)以及《Inhaling the Silence》(2013)。星子是加拿大诗人联盟安省代表,她工作和居住在安省的密西沙加。

Anna Yin was born in China and immigrated to Canada in 1999. Anna won the 2005 Ted Plantos Memorial Award, the 2010 MARTY Award, etc. She has published five books of poetry. Collections of her poetry Wings Toward Sunlight was published by Mosaic Press in 2011 and Inhaling the Silence was published in 2013. Anna is Ontario representative for the League of Canadian Poets. She works and lives in Mississauga, Ontario.

Grand Canyon, North Rim


At the edge of a known world mountains repeat themselves like old people. Each ripple a blue syllable, a language of forgetting. A place like this, exposed to harsh winters and long years of drought, begs to be how it was. I can't but think standing at the chasm above the seep willow how the ghost water raged like bison through the bottom of this immense gorge. Not from flash floods and snow melt, but a force so powerful the ground split open, shearing the canyon raw. What strength could carry massive boulders miles away? Surely no methodical erosion, but a truth catastrophic leaving this maw, this mouth to gawk. My tongue so heavy now with dust, like a potter's wheel in the sun, stays mute — having nothing more to say than two hawks circling the canyon or the wind coaxing the last leaves from the cottonwood below. It's nearly dusk and the red rock face shifts mood, deepening with itself. What time changes leaves a shadow, a human sundial at a precipice. A gnomon tilted toward a true celestial north.


在已知世界的边缘 山重复自己 像老人们一样。每个波纹 一个蓝色音节,一种遗忘语言。 这样一个地方,暴露于 恶劣的冬季和漫长的 干旱,乞求接受如何成型。 我不能不想到 在沟壑旁 柳树的上边 鬼魂的河水如何肆虐 像野牛通过 这大峡谷的底部。 不是来自山洪和积雪融化, 但力量如此强大 使得地面裂开,活生生 劈成峡谷。什么力量可以携带 巨大的石流几英里之远? 当然不是有条不紊的侵蚀, 而是一次事实灾难性的 留下这个鱼肚,这个开口 来瞪视。我的舌头此刻沉重 带着灰尘,就像制陶者的转轮在阳光下 保持安静——没有什么可多说的 除了两只老鹰盘旋在峡谷 或风抚弄下边棉木丛 的最后叶片。 已近黄昏,红色岩壁 转移着情绪,它们渐渐深沉。 时间的变化留下了阴影, 形成悬崖的一个人工日晷。指时针 倾斜指向忠实的天体之北。

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