In this poetry collection written by the Chinese poet Zhou Li (周立), the poems have no title and are only separated by blank lines. This doesn’t seem to be the author’s deliberate arrangement; he just let the poems be what they are. Much like a person’s daily life: every day, week, month or year that passes does not have a definite theme, but this does not hinder every day from becoming every day and every year becoming every year. The days we spend may be happy, depressing, painful, empty, or even despairing. So are these poems; their existence is their meaning. They are not higher or lower than life itself.
Xi Nan, translator
Xi Nan and Zhou Li read from 207th Bone in English and Chinese
Use my books
To build a
Space
Based on a non-linear language
It’s about 1.8 meters long
60 centimeters high
40 centimeters wide
The one book in the southeast corner
Will be given to you
So that wind
Can blow in
The friend on the phone
Can’t stop crying
The grandma who had loved her, passed away
But she doesn’t have enough money
To go back home
She is a poor person
Homeless
Once sent me a photo
That was in a satiny desert
A bird was
Wrapped in a kasaya
I really envy
Those plants
In broad daylight
They can make love with
Their lovers at a distance
