portion of the artwork for Changming Yuan's poetry

Manipulating the Time
Changming Yuan

If on a Sunday afternoon
You really have nothing
Better or worse to do, try this:
Fold every quarter of an hour
Into an airplane, a rocket
With the front page
Of new york times
Or china daily, and set it off
Far into the twilight before
Headlines begin to fade, complaining
About being bent, the same old stories
Crying out of pain, and all the innocent
Words falling apart, like children
Bombed by a killer monster flying by


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 42 | Fall 2013