GAS Featured Poet: Jacsun Shah

 

 Jacquelyn “Jacsun” Shah, Cincinnati-born, has lived in New Jersey; London; and Mumbai, India. She currently resides in Houston, Texas. Education: AB–Phi Beta Kappa, magna cum laude; MA; MFA; PHD––English/creative writing. Publications: poetry chapbook (small fry) & full-length poetry book (What to Do with Red); memoir (Limited Engagement: A Way of Living); individual poems in journals. She was Gleam: Journal of Cadralor’s 2023 Pushcart Prize nominee. An iconoclast, she often combines cultural critique and humor in her work. 

It Began, and Lingers

It began slowly, that love

the dawning as indistinct

as morning mist

nudging me here and there

quietly crowding my senses

I’d see your tongue

flick over lips to moisten

hot, dry skin (divulging 

a thickness of feeling?)

I’d hear your clusters of words

pulsating rhythms

impressed by the sense

aroused by the pitch

I thought I could taste

your fingertips

as my imagination drew you

to me

It began slowly, my love

for you, winding its way

through shadows, spawning

cool green moments 

My own perfume awakened me

I wondered if it reached you

Now I always sense your approach

watch the controlled pace

of your movements, pulled

by the spread of your shoulders

aware of the pure

indulgence I allow myself

I like the quick sardonic smile

that gilds your point-blank features

your harmony of arrogance

and self-effacement

the tautness of the cloth

across your legs

Away from you, I give myself

what only the imagination can give

creating you as lover

recreating over and over

a first touch

It began slowly, my love, emerging

from a well I thought was dark and dry

to rush at last with the force of a stormy sea!

A starry round, a loop and up

to you I come, then down

down, too long, too long

then up in a dizzy, darting path

through days and days and days

of you

It began slowly, that love

and lingers

like the taste of cool mint

It ruffles me

like a summer breeze

when I least expect it

GAS Featured Poet: Ma Yongbo

 Ma Yongbo was born in 1964, Ph.D, representative of Chinese avant-garde poetry, and a leading scholar in Anglo-American poetry. He is the founder of Difficult writing and objectified poetics. He is also the first translator to introduce British and American postmodern poetry into Chinese, focusing on translating and teaching Anglo-American poetry and prose including the work of Dickinson, Whitman, Stevens, Pound, Amy Lowell, Williams, Ashbery, Rosanna Warren.

He has published over eighty original works and translations since 1986 including 9 poetry collections. Ma Yongbo’s complete Chinese translation of Moby Dick has sold over 600,000 copies.

The Collected Poems of Ma Yongbo (four volumes, Eastern Publishing Centre, 2024) comprising 1178 poems, celebrate 40 years of writing poetry. He teaches at Nanjing University of Science and Technology.

In August 2026, he received the American poetry award: New Generation Beat Poet Laureate (2026-lifetime) China, from The National Beat Poetry Foundation (NBPF) in the United States.

His work is widely published in international journals such as New American Writing，Livemag, Cafe Review, International Times, Vox Populi, Ink Sweat and Tears, Orbis, Cambridge Poetry,  Polismagazino, Masticadoresusa，Masticadorescanada, masticadorestaiwan, Feed the Holy，Collaborature，European Poetry, Magique Publishing, Primelore, Verseum Literary, Area Felix，ONE, Sindh Courier，Lingo Lexicon，Worldinkers，Avantappalachia，Madswirl，Allyourpoems，Homouniversalisgr，100subtextsmagazine，Pandemoniumjournal，Cultural Reverence，Rochford Street Review，Synchchaos，Ezra，Autumn Sky Poetry Daily，Nuthatchmag，Posit，Yumpu，Our Poetry Archive，Subliminal.surgery，The Raft of Dreams Literary Magazine, Atunis，Insightmagazine，Lothlorien Poetry Journal，Acheron，Gorkogazette，A Too Powerful Word，Chiron Review，Gas，Chewers，Latinosenglishedition, Medusaskitchen，Beatnikcowboy，Dear O Deer!，The Wordsmith Literary E-Magazine , New Black Bart Poetry Society, Edge of Humanity，Liveencounters，Big Other, Live Nude Poems, Kabita Live, Silverbirchpress, The Aleph Review, Home Planet News, Madswirl, Poemalone, Unlikely Stories Six,Tap into Poetry,Circle of Salt,  Semiosis, Zeroesgarden, Durgapur Review,Silver Birch Press, Almanarjournal, Jade Moon, Chinton, Green Trail Poetry Book by Noble Gas, etc.

Suicide Studies

I:Thinking of stones and the habit of drowning poets on Poets' Day

Qu Yuan embraced a stone, along with the fragrant herbs 

and his idealized beauty, before plunging into the Miluo River.

Lu Zhaolin, one of the Four Literary Masters of the Early Tang Dynasty, 

drowned himself in the Ying River.

Li Bai clutched a stone of moonlight and threw himself into the Yangtze River.

Wang Guowei sank into Kunming Lake at the Summer Palace, 

leaving behind a suicide note: "At fifty, I owe only my death."

Zhu Xiang, passing by Caishi Gorge on a boat, 

leaped into the Yangtze, following in Li Bai's footsteps.

Virginia Woolf filled her pockets with stones 

and walked into the River Ouse in England.

Paul Celan threw himself from the Pont de Mirabeau into the Seine.

Hart Crane leaped into the Caribbean Sea while on a voyage back home.

John Berryman threw himself into the Mississippi River.

Analysis:

In ancient China, poets who drowned themselves 

often did so out of loyalty to a fallen nation, 

unbearable illness, or utter despair amidst a chaotic era.

In modern times, both Chinese and foreign poets 

have mostly been driven to such ends by clinical depression, 

generational trauma, emotional devastation, and the sheer exhaustion of survival.

Conclusion:

Whether or not they held a stone as they plunged into the water,

the human heart is far harder and heavier than any stone.

II: Poets Who Hanged Themselves

Sanmao (Chen Ping, 1943–1991), a Chinese prose poet,

hanged herself with silk stockings in a hospital restroom.

Her poems and essays are steeped in wandering and solitude, 

with Olive Tree as her magnum opus. Truth be told, 

I have not read much of her work and can hardly say I am fond of her,

yet I can sing Olive Tree, as could every peer of my generation.

Gu Cheng (1956–1993), a core representative of the Misty Poetry school,

murdered his wife on a island, before hanging himself from a tree.

Misty Poetry was all the rage during my university years; 

I preferred Bei Dao’s icy austerity.

I acknowledge Gu Cheng’s innate poetic gift, yet one of his poems about colour—

whose title I have forgotten—once appeared in an official literary journal

and turned me utterly disillusioned, from that moment onward, 

I ceased reading all official publications.

Fu Lei (1908–1966), translator and classical Chinese poet,

hanged himself alongside his wife at home. 

He is widely regarded in literary circles as a scholar with a poet’s temperament.

I have long harboured scepticism toward poet-scholars; 

I hold far greater esteem for scholar-poets.

Sergei Yesenin (1895–1925), Russia’s gifted pastoral lyric poet,

hanged himself with a leather belt in a St Petersburg hotel room in 1925.

He bit his finger and scrawled his farewell poem Farewell, My Friends in blood on a mirror.

I first encountered his work in my first year of university, and he reshaped my sensibility,

setting me upon a rugged, arduous yet righteous path.

Had it not been for him, I would have become the kind of red poet celebrated by the state.

Marina Tsvetaeva (1892–1941), preeminent female poet of Russia’s Silver Age,

was evacuated to a small town during the Second World War. 

Repeatedly rejected for employment and estranged from her son, 

she descended into despair and hanged herself, leaving the line:

“Forgive me, but to go on would be worse.”

Her verse brims with mortal suffering and longing for her homeland.

I wrote of her in the opening stanza of my poem Correspondences:

“She gave away her rings without a second thought—a full hundred of them!”

Compared with Tsvetaeva, I favour Anna Akhmatova’s regal poise and grace,

even when all she could set before foreign guests was a single lonely carrot on a plate,

even when her tartan skirt bore holes burnt through by cigarette embers.

Gérard de Nerval (1808–1855), forerunner of French Symbolism,

suffered from chronic schizophrenia, he hanged himself 

from the iron bar of a cellar window in a narrow alley,

“Don't wait up for me this evening, for the night will be black and white.”

His hat remained perched on his head, and several pages of verse were tucked in his pocket.

His dreamlike, shadowy poetry exerted a profound influence on Charles Baudelaire.

He was known to take walks leading a calm, solemn pet lobster on a blue silk ribbon.

III: Poets Who Died by Shooting Themselves

Kostas Karyotakis (1896–1928), Leading Greek Modernist Poet

on 19 July 1928, Karyotakis went to Monolithi Beach

and spent ten hours repeatedly trying to drown himself. 

Yet he was an excellent swimmer, so all his drowning attempts failed.

Early the next morning, he returned home, 

then went out to buy a revolver and walked alone into a small café.

He lingered there for hours, smoking and drinking cherry juice.

The drink cost merely five drachmas, yet he left seventy-five drachmas as a tip.

After leaving the café, he walked to a eucalyptus tree beside a church,

shot himself through the heart, and ended his life.

“Every reality to me was repulsive.”

Vladimir Mayakovsky (1893–1930), Core Poet of Soviet Futurism

On 14 April 1930, aged 37, he shot himself in the heart in Moscow.

Multiple burdens: a broken marriage, constant slander from fellow writers, 

disastrous theatrical premieres, a severe illness that robbed him of his voice, 

and an irreparable rift between his ideals and harsh reality.

“A Cloud in Trousers” and “Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. ”

I was particularly fond of his ladder-style poetic form in my college years,

I loved the image of him reciting poetry onstage with a carrot tucked in his coat pocket.

Heinrich von Kleist (1777–1811), German Romantic Poet and Dramatist

He made a suicide pact with his terminally ill lover.

He shot her first, then turned the gun on himself.

His verse carries a stark, icy tone, permeated with a tragic sense of fate.

Ernest Hemingway (1899–1961), American Novelist and Poet

He killed himself with a shotgun at home in 1961.

In his younger years, he wrote numerous short poems marked by concise, unyielding prose.

He endured crippling clinical depression and a lifetime of physical injuries and illnesses.

I have translated two of his books: “Green Hills of Africa” and “A Moveable Feast.”

Richard Brautigan (1935–1984), American Beat Poet and Novelist

He shot himself in the head with a .44 Magnum revolver.

His poetry is light, whimsical and absurd, 

repeatedly exploring loneliness and nihilism.

In his childhood, his mother would sift rat droppings out of their flour 

before making thin water pancakes from the tainted powder.

He was once arrested for throwing a rock through a police station window, 

reportedly hoping to be jailed just to get a regular meal.

I translated dozen of his poems, yet only one line lingers in my memory:

“Her hips are like a moldy refrigerator.” 

I can no longer recall which work this line comes from.

IV: Poets Who Died by Poisoning

Dai Wangshu (1905–1950) , Symbolist Poet of the Rain Lane School 

in 1940, his marriage fell apart, and his wife remarried a Japanese puppet regime, 

overwhelmed by despair, he swallowed poison but was resuscitated.

A lifelong asthma sufferer, on the morning of February 28, 1950, 

he injected ephedrine himself; the overdose sent him into a coma, and died.

His verse is mournful and misty, his whole life trapped in tangled love, 

turbulent times and constant wandering.

I prefer With My Wounded Palm over his famous Rain Lane.

Shao Xunmei (1906–1968) , Aesthetic Poet and Publisher

He excelled at both classical Chinese verse and modern free poetry. 

In his later years, his family fortune collapsed, and he endured wrongful persecution. 

He lived cramped in a garret room with his eldest son, 

and died of gastric hemorrhage after ingesting opium extract over three consecutive days.

In his youth, he devoted himself to anti-Japanese publishing, 

tirelessly translating foreign works and running literary journals.

His poetry carries ornate decadence, blending old-world romantic charm 

with sorrow for a nation torn by war.

His tombstone bears lines: "What do you take me for? 

A libertine? A miser? A scholar?

An office-seeker? Or a fearless hero?

You are wrong, utterly wrong. I am a poet, born to be one."

Georg Trakl (1887–1914) , Austrian Expressionist Poet

He served as a military doctor in World War I, 

and the horrors of the battlefield shattered his sanity.

He overdosed on cocaine at a field hospital in Kraków, 

and had already passed away by the time 

Ludwig Wittgenstein rushed to his bedside.

His suicide note laid bare all earthly suffering and unexpiated sin.

His poetry is cold and profound, steeped in ancestral guilt, 

decay and the trauma of war.

“Poetry is an imperfect recompense for unexpiable sin.”

Alejandra Pizarnik (1936–1972) , Argentine Surrealist Female Poet

Plagued by severe chronic depression, 

she took a fatal overdose of barbiturate sleeping pills.

Her poems are concise and piercing, 

revolving endlessly around loneliness, insomnia, night and death.

She earned immense admiration from both Jorge Luis Borges and Octavio Paz.

Stefan Zweig (1881–1942), German Lyric Poet and Master Biographer

Exiled in Brazil, he witnessed the collapse of European civilization and the rampage of fascism.

He swallowed sedatives alongside his wife Charlotte, and the two died together.

He specialized in portraying the spiritual fates of poets and artists.

His poems and prose are filled with humanitarian warmth 

and a profound disillusionment with civilization.

Ryunosuke Akutagawa (1892–1927) , Japanese Writer and Poet

He endured long-term nervous exhaustion. With his suicide note, 

the Bible and manuscript poems laid beside his pillow, 

he swallowed sleeping pills to end his life----

"Of all the attributes belonging to the gods, 

the one I pity most is that they cannot take their own lives."

His prose is sharp and lucid, laying bare the darkness within human nature.

Jack London (1876–1916) , American Narrative Poet and Novelist

In his later life, crippling illnesses and shattered ideals plagued him,

at his ranch home, he injected a fatal overdose of morphine.

His works are raw and wild, depicting wilderness, 

survival and primal life instincts, underpinned by a nihilistic undertone.

Sara Teasdale (1884–1933), American Female Lyric Poet

She took her own life with an overdose of sleeping pills.

“ I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful,

 When rain bends down the bough.”

Vachel Lindsay (1879–1931) , American Spoken-Word Poet

He once courted Sara Teasdale but was rejected.

Plagued by financial hardship, his health deteriorated 

after a six-month cross-country road trip, 

he drank a full bottle of lye, and his final words were:

"They tried to get me; I got them first!"