In the New Year
For the Chinese writer
Little to say in the new year.
Writers’ block, ok, but also
writers’ discouragement
(best to keep grievances private)
and writers’ backlash, from cyber patriots
and cyber parrots, and writers’ cold shoulder
from editors who would, this time, just not rather.
And writers’ doubt, because what’s it worth?
Ideas wither on the vine, leaving
old yarns about the new year,
temple fairs, happy children, lanterns,
the absence (or proliferation!) of firecrackers
to scare away the monster Nian
who terrorized villagers in ancient times
—who now watches from a bunker
with ink-black eyes, all-seeing,
nursing a bottomless hunger,
licking his chops, biding his time.