The Flow of Flow

Luoyang Chen lives in Boorloo/Perth. He writes poetry.


can be like this:

Don’t come back home. Something bad is going to happen. Something even worse than a flood. A flood even. Where all that money went. That bastard. He and he and she. Cut. Cut this one. This one can’t be cut. Run…

These words are my Ah-mah’s — spoken in Hokkien, a deformed language with no written form, a language that diffuses in the air the moment it’s uttered, and yet it is the only language she can speak. It is a language that I have to repeat over and over to remember. Trapped in the place where her schizophrenic trauma takes shape, if she can’t run, her son can’t run, then her grandson must run.

I have to go and keep going. I have to run
away from the root cause of generational family trauma.

Do I speak fragmented English? If I do, why?

But this cannot be the origin of Flow.

This is
the flow of Flow.

© Luoyang Chen, 2022