JUNGIAN THERAPISTS, LADIES WITH MULLETS —

i had just awoken when
the voices arrived
i dressed
found my shoes
and slid them
on

on my way to the psychologist
the voices grew slightly
hostel

they don’t like to be eradicated

when i arrived at the office
i waited until i was called
i sat
in a chair
and
talked
talked
talked
but i did not hear myself
because
the voices
talked over my real
voice
insistently

after fifty
minutes had past


i got up and
happily
walked out
of there

on the way home
i stopped at a café
called Fuel

there were two beautiful
women behind the counter
almost too good looking
the only thing was
they both had very
pronounced mullets

i ordered a 12oz coffee
then added
cream and two sugar cubes

i walked towards the exit
the voices were silent

it was the beginning of another
very confusing day

OUTSIDE NANA —

outside the Nana tailor shop
sat a young man
no hands,
no feet,
no shade.

as i passed he put both stubs in
the prayer position and said
“suh-watt-dee - suh-watt-dee.”

his smile ran me over as he kept on:
“suh-watt dee - suh-watt-dee”
his stubs shaking with
unfounded hope.

as i passed him i nodded,
tried to look like i
understood,
even though
i didn’t and
don’t.

then i walked back to my small room
and wrote it all down thinking that
one day i should stop
writing this stuff

but knowing that men with
no hands,
no feet,
no shade
and a smile the size of
the expressway
would never let
me get away
with that.

SNAPSHOT BANGKOK 4:01AM —

and i’m sitting on an

elevated sky train platform

eating a sandwich

below the people sit on the street 

drink and play music

as the trash men

collect trash

the working girls sit around 

legs crossed 

one heel 

bouncing

they sit and wait as the men

pass by, pass by, 

and pass by

they sit there showing leg

saying the same phrases

over and over

about a block away 

a door man is tipped  

while an elevator rises 

and falls again

a plane passes overhead

and four people 

look up

as the plane moves into the distance

a rat and a dog square off

both suspended in their 

battle rituals

men stand on the corners counting 

their money, swallowing 

their ethics, and sweating

the birds start their song

and i stand up and begin 

walking toward my room

i move onto the street 

and look ahead

as it all passes away 

into the strange space we call

history.

GOODBYE KOI —

the koi is a common fish

and actually a type of

garbage eating carp.

but if you’re perceptive

every now and then 

you’ll find magic

in this tragically 

ordinary fish. 

it’s something that 

captivates the mind

stimulates the body 

punctures the soul.

and when you find this sort

you follow it first with 

your eyes then with

your feet.

and while you know the common

nature of the fish you follow it 

still, often with amazement.

well soon enough either the koi

or you move on to new 

waters and that 

is that.

but in the meantime you follow

the fish thinking that one day

you’ll see it again in a 

different pond

a new tank 

or washed up dead somewhere 

but knowing that

you probably won’t.

HOW DOES IT FEEL? —

it’s not easy for them either.

yes, they dress nicely,
sip their coffee slower,
and create music we
can’t hear; but, there’s
something else
isn’t there?

it’s the itch to walk deliberately
into the blaze
to dive head-first into the brutality
or answer the door naked
to be unjustly mean or
to go to bed with
a stranger

to pretend to be him or her
or them
or anything
or nobody

it’s the common hunger for truth
and the failure to speak it.
the appeal of leaving  it all
behind

it’s the impulse to hate what
you don’t understand
and the masking of your
hatred with kindness

to run away from the
sham of nirvana into a
blade or barrel
or irate sea

to become individually lost in
a mass of mutual human
suffering

MAGNOLIA PLAINSMAN —

Magnolias gesture in solitude, until morning
Over roped-roots, petals emerge in Spring
The sky still weeps against the passing
Fragile petals fill, shed their pretense
Fall easily to the ground
And underfoot are crushed
Into the soil

Magnolias remain impossibly, against their mourning
Submerged petals restore the flora of another Spring
Possibly the same blossoms, same roots
Resurrected anew in ecstatic absorption
Stronger than yesterday
Weaker than tomorrow

PRETTY DAMN GOOD —

2 young females sit on my
front right and talk in a
soft yet urgent tone,
probably about
their love life.
to my direct left is a couple
who stare continually into
each other’s eyes and
laugh about everything
and nothing at all.
Vietnamese cooks are behind
me chattering loudly.
i cannot understand Vietnamese
so i tune them right out
like they were the
souls of my lost
loves.
others are everywhere,
talking about this, that
and the other thing.
they are angry, happy,
sad, in the middle,
unsure, and
together.
in the seat directly across from me
sits no one, just a bowl
of noodles and a pair
of chopsticks.
i know what i must be done
and i do it.

SUBSISTENT FORMS —

It is pure nonsense to believe
that the aliens can be conquered by
an eye gouge, a testicular squeeze
or a nipple twist. The tragic theorem
is awfully ugly, a paradox of ugly, universal
and unequivocal, paranormal and pathetic.
The mysterious “intruders” are not unknown.
Like in the movies, the mysterious intruders
are among us. So leave your heirlooms behind
for the looters. Bring your songbooks. Learn to
smile wide. After all, perhaps the aliens are under
obligation to intervene. Perhaps they are here to
free us from our program. Perhaps we
should pity them, sing along children.
Or perhaps we should gather our bayonets,
machetes, knives, scythes, cutthroat razors.
Perhaps we should prepare a place to disembowel and
incinerate them. Perhaps we should prepare ourselves
a place for disembowelment. AK-47s, blindfolds,
and pump-action shotguns may prove prudent.
Whatsoever the resources, weapons of
opportunity will be wielded. Improvise
child, you’re only limited by imagination
and the hour is certainly short, our
screams turning into specks of moonlight
as we are dragged away by our neighbors

HYPOTHESIS ON TERRORISM —

Total or unreal
our reality beyond principal
mental and physical liberation flow
in the rubble of our own image
zero sign of hostility

MAMA'S TIERS —

boundaries about and abound
maim the land and the psyche
maim the psyche and the land
peeled backward than forward
forward then back -
tears tear through the soil
and the soul
the sound
of water breaking
then rolling back
to it's origin

_