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Remembering You

Remembering You

A ghostly flower blooming and withering,
(or blot) blinking with colors that strain to brightness,
to equal those of what were seen before;
fragments, with the music or plain utterances
attempting to be as loud (or as soft)
as what they really were...

But all in vain.

Blurred and ephemeral. Just for a haunting and fleeting...
Many times an unexpected visitor,
an intruder, inside...

What is complete and constant is that depressing spirit:

Void of form and details, yet lingering, encumbering,
dragging. Punctuated, highlighted,
by the thief that intermittently
gives, curses, and leaves

with a piece.

November -December




Without blackish stones keeps still plankton,—

Surf through shifting waves

And inscribe the gold under the smooth flower-beds.

Then silver and yellow foreshadow 

Upon a sea that is singing

In bliss;

Now the sun

In a calm blue dim

Nourishes the fig-enriched day


Ann Huang

Ann Huang was born in China and moved to Mexico when she was a teen. As an MFA recipient in Poetry from the Vermont College of Fine Arts, Huang’s poetry has appeared online and in print extensively. Her poem “Night Lullaby,” was a Ruth Stone Poetry Prize finalist. Huang's book-length collection Saffron Splash, was selected as Finalist in the CSU Poetry Center's Open Book Poetry Competition. Huang's new poetry collection, Delicious and Alien, was published in March 2017. Her poems follow the surrealistic gestures that weave reality into divergent realms of perspectives and perceptions. Visit for more poems.


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