Issue 02
Modern Fugue Lu Yang Faith turning sour on a raining afternoon, Thunderless. I suck the music from white man’s jazz And dance to Louis Armstrong’s husky beats. All the people that failed at love, I take the pain from your chests And endure with tender moans. Somewhere a moaning becomes a prayer That apologizes for those unbendable knees That grew on me these past few acid years. The pureness of thought has long been Diluted into elite nonsense, how I Long to murder my own mind The pest of modern uncivility! Broken stanzas carry this raucous soulness Mess of an angel, with da Vinci’s oil striken Colorful wings and the evasive smile of Mona Lisa I remain and wait, wait and remain, For a mist of confused chaos called Dawn.
14
