Comments Posted By Tianwei Liu

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enemies

They have always loved one another cheek to cheek, their golden heads leaned together and conspiring smiles on young, smooth lips. Arm in arm they walk, hip to hip they stand.

One cannot love one’s reflection though it is there, and if one should hate it, there it still remains.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 04.30.2013 @ 5:23 am

afraid

When I was eighteen the NKVD came for us
And I was eighteen
and the floorboards had been in want of polishing
and Father, gone for two weeks

this is not madness
this is such fear

All that we do to each other.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 09.23.2012 @ 2:16 pm

decorations

If there had been anything more unnerving and disquieting, she thought that it was the tiny world inside each thin glass-and-plastic fairy-light on the christmas tree.

It had seemed like forever, like a lonely little corporate floor level in which someone, if they lived, would do so in pristine isolation for the rest of their days, fashionable and listless, entombed.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 07.17.2012 @ 2:49 am

brief

There is something fleeting in this moment, beloved.
The touch of your lips speaks of brevity, of
late evenings
and phrases unfinished.

(goodnight, ladies, goodnight, fair ladies, goodnight, goodnight)

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 06.12.2012 @ 4:44 pm

lodge

There, here, is rough-hewn wood, polished
with Danish wax, with elbows

There is the warmth of strangers,
here are afghans over tired couches.

Snow falls, dirty, humane, outside, lingers
on cold windowsills.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 05.23.2012 @ 2:56 pm

pile

There is a sort of art amongst the violence of it, the mud and the bodies; as if someone had decided one day to embrace surrealism whilst armed with all the misfortunes of a troubled past, perhaps too many Gothic novels, too much damned thinking-

Flanders in the springtime is not a holy place, nor remotely attractive in the year of 1917.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 05.20.2012 @ 1:18 am

shorthand

He sat down at the writing-desk one morning, and found, much to his dismay, that nothing came to mind.

The day was fine; the smooth sunlight slotted through the windowpanes onto clean floorboards, illuminating dust-motes in the air, was warm, but the page remained resolutely, stubbornly blank.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 05.08.2012 @ 4:45 pm

separate

There is a gap between us now
like lovers across a river that becomes, gradually, a sea
as you bend from me and I from you

What, I wonder, is there to lose when in all truth there is comfort in separation
A productive quiet a welcome solitude
Accustomed to your absence love, like a sickness
accustomed to your silence when imagination renders you fonder, kinder
you are not present and yet I love you still

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 05.02.2012 @ 4:46 pm

duration

At boarding school, Jeremy used to stand with his back against the door of the wardrobe.

It had been a heavy, French armoire, the sort that seemed likely to fall over at any given moment- and so he and his roommate, a freckled boy with lean limbs and unruly hair and terrible Arithmetic, had been afraid that the thing would fall on them- crush them flat, or trap them within its yawning mouth of coatrack teeth- whenever they dared to get changed in the mornings or evenings.

And so one boy would always stand with their arms braced against the hewn-oak panels while the other rummaged.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 03.15.2012 @ 3:57 am

apron

A dark-blue affair, speckled
with white flowers

Rough cloth made smooth by wear, tired seams
stains hidden conveniently
nevertheless

Here we are
Here is the kitchen

The dust-motes flicker, illuminated
by dust

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 01.05.2012 @ 6:14 pm

trunk

There was lint in the spaces, the air thick with the smell of car-polish and a new, industrial sort of scent as if the trunk were the head, as if the car were an old dog, remembering past all else what it had been like to have been young, when the children were still scolded for marking the windows with their fingertips, when each new scratch had been met with regret, and not apathy.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 01.03.2012 @ 10:43 pm

skyline

There is monochromatic colour everywhere, and he no longer remembers which way to turn.

It’s not quite jaywalking; with his backpack and the last vestiges of tan over his cheekbones the city doesn’t yet suit him, too many countries of sheep and Sunday afternoons, battered cardboard signs that spell ‘Invercargil’ with one l to save printing space, like in the movie.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.29.2011 @ 10:09 pm

marble

The halls whispered- ‘though still-unravished bride of quietness- with the curtains drawn back from the windows and the grounds outside, damp English weather.

Little more than veined torsos with sightless eyes and graceful shoulders, sexless from cheek to navel with their hair in curls, calcified.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.27.2011 @ 3:02 pm

stunning

The train station seems to freeze.
Black shapes make up umbrellas and passersby in dark coats, the metallic sexless dictation of gate numbers and times sounds overhead.

You smile, a mess of laugh-lines and chapped lips.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.23.2011 @ 5:10 pm

study

This is something that is happening right now.

As we speak your time is trickling away from you in a way that the younger do not understand and the older do not care to remember, and you will look back to find this time both more difficult and easier than anything else you will ever have done.

Now.
Calculus.
Where were we?

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.22.2011 @ 11:47 am

shuffle

Striped pajamas, the feet cut off the footie-bottoms even as she makes her way down the polished corridor with her fingernails like tiny shells, the miniscule motions of a eight-month-old scrap of humanity.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.19.2011 @ 3:06 am

solitaire

It’s a lonely sort of life, cracks in the walls, monochromatic strips like foreign spy films at 10pm.

Her fingernails are perfect, the polish nevertheless chipped as she flips cards worn soft at the edges.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.18.2011 @ 1:47 am

hearts

Her face had been daubed with paint in red and white like lead, so that she dared not smile lest the thick wrinkles of it betray an age she did not feel.

The sceptre was smooth in her hand, her throne shaped- not that stylised, flat thing, but a real heart, obscene in its furrows of raw flesh.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.16.2011 @ 1:13 pm

left

He had found himself one day at the train station for no other reason than that he was walking past it, hat pulled down against the mocking Bedfordshire wind. He had sat, for the longest time, on the grimy seats painted over crudely in green, recalling the ghost-vestiges of smoke; a disappearing window; a slender, waving hand.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.15.2011 @ 6:45 pm

orchestra

Tweetle
parp parp

tweet
screeeech.

Da-dum dum schhh!

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.14.2011 @ 3:37 pm

icicle

She was cold in a comical sort of way, shoulders hunched, shuffling, her words coming in ululating soprano pitch like a singer’s vibrato gone wrong, grinning nonetheless through aching teeth and steaming breath, laughing, hair caught under a knitted woollen cap in the Shenyang snow.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.12.2011 @ 11:14 am

prints

I have never been entirely good with prints, always expecting the machines to do the work for me; cutting minuscule pieces out- no, not even cutting, chipping away at the half-giving mats with patterns that always seemed too much like wounds to be any amount of schoolroom-appropriate decorative, and yet turning out hopelessly benign.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.09.2011 @ 3:18 pm

patent

He had created a mechanism, all brassy edges and fluttering wings, small parts delicate as a child’s fingernails. It had not flown, but all the same- all the same.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.08.2011 @ 4:59 pm

autumn

Autumn is fire, cool, dowered with empty leaves and the not-so-empty threat of colder days still. Leaves become skeletons, brittle but infested, Autumn wreathes her gowns with damp and decay beneath the facade of dry fire, warmth, the glory of trees in an endless park and walks forever steeped in romanticism.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.08.2011 @ 4:38 am

tires

Cumbersome rubberthing they are, with their ridges like streamlined industry. Thick and yet yielding, giving up layer by later of bloodless flesh to miles, to roads, to distance.

And then replaced.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.05.2011 @ 3:28 pm

downpour

ti ta ti tati
ti ti ro le ro

fingerprints within
raindrops without

suburban Howick, Auckland, New Zealand
greenery

te re re
ro
ri

go in peace

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.05.2011 @ 7:23 am

profound

There is something to be said about silence, the
dust motes, light
on her pale sill, exactly

Twelve minutes of contemplation, where
absolutely nothing
was done.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.02.2011 @ 8:03 pm

passionate

This is not love.

This is such pain.
Such pain, the heartless velvets and cruel, reckless pump of blood, hormones heedless of the slower ache of tragedy, sharper pains that they wreak with their hasty actions.

In a fit of anger we may break the mirror, the lingering regret of it (and the hairline scars) like stale perfume from a long-dead lover.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 11.01.2011 @ 1:04 am

She is red.
She is the carnations in her glossy dark hair, dark eyes of indiscriminate colour, fingers slim or thick or small or long, curling in air, beckoning.

She traces patterns on worn hardwood floors, smiles, lips unpainted or painted, colour seeped into dry cracks.

She is imperfection, and yet.

And yet.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 10.31.2011 @ 3:46 pm

automatic

To do something without being prompted- instinctive, in a way, the mechanisms of our limbs and bones and flesh, our sinew and veins moving in smooth harmony, action startling and smooth as breathing, as if we’d always known how.

» Posted By Tianwei Liu On 10.24.2011 @ 2:44 pm

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