by Yuan Changming
Among the seven colors
Of the paint, the painting
Gives rise to a swirl
Turning fast enough
To send you up to a little cloud
Like an eagle gliding through
The serenity of autumn sky
Neither the eagle nor you cast
Any shadow down as the earth
Keeps rotating as leisurely
As any other day beyond the black hole
When you return and stand on a
Hilltop, the painting is still
Unfolding itself, but the eagle has
Vanished high up into another sky
Yuan Changming, nine-time Pushcart nominee and author of seven chapbooks (including Wordscaping [2016]), published monographs on translation before moving out of China. With a PhD in English, Yuan currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver, and has poetry appearing in Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Threepenny Review and 1189 others across 38 countries.
Hawaii Pacific Review 
Fantastic use of imagery and color. Carried me up a bit. Keep writing.
Quite an experience