Monthly Archives: August 2014


Lay down and relax
wasn’t lax on laboring
just standing on the sidewalk, an obvious obelix
frantic hands tend to make clumsy work
I never said I was normal,
I might be a little hormonal
I might be a little conceptual
I just don’t know what I want
I might be just a cave man
wanting the fundamentals: fire, shelter, scraps
I might be just a renaissance man waiting for the next galliard dance
But where there is fortune and fame
there is always hands and mouths
and peircing eyes
I might be cowering in the corner
I might be basking in the moonlight


Iron Lung

speak the truth
until it hurts
got so much on your plate
but this grim and dust isn’t palatable
coughing up fluid from your lungs
might need an organ transplant
They roll you into a metallic room
place you in an iron lung
a spark could incinerate you
you were always brave and bold
a medallion gilded in gold
and how they took you
while I tried hold you
I swallowed you like medicine
but now it’s like poison
Oh how I braved you
and we mistook each other
for each other’s savior
and how we casted lots for another
we got a lot flaws
we got a lot gauze
 and glue 
so let’s us bind to one another
meld into one another

Some writing about some guy walking in a parking lot from 10:05 to 10:40

 He passed the neon poison-dart frog lights

  The flamingo pink fluorescent open signs 

  Clustered gangs of humanoids loitering near cars 

  Whispering, chattering, eruptious laughter

  Puffing pungent Mary Jane diffusing in the wind 

 He walked by a noodle restaurant

  And became a suave man cajoling a dame in a crow dress

  He could feel the gritty asphalt, the fish slim air 

  Three cinder blocks arbitrarily lost sat on a wall

  He grabbed out of  philosophical liberty and independence and threw it (lighter than he thought).  

 He felt that youth fluttering like a tiny cardinal between his rib cage 

 And landed, with a plebeian thud but started rolling down until friction did it’s work. safe 

Jumped up and down, the small divider became an exercise for the hamstrings and the gluteus 

Backwards jumps were of an audacious skateboarders, the crowd goes bananas 

Nature calls for a releasing of a steady stream, but no washroom’s in sight. 

Automatic door opens to an electronic spaceship control panel, office’s closed

 Leaving, to wander with aimless intent towards some experiential nirvana

 A digressive meditation on the seemingly ordinary of tea shops and asian diners as a product of immigrant middle class suburban sprawls. How would one distinguish Canada, from say some place in LA? 

What existed before the parking lot was slapped on to dry hard layer effectively killing all that lies beneath? 

Is this humanity’s sick way of entertaining ourselves?
Or is it as more fickle as that female recounting how she dodged the romantic forays of the boy she was holding sweaty hands with? 

Is this what life is all about? Making enough dough,to splurge on drinks and food, to associate with infant mirror images, based on my presupposed birth of being Chinese? 

Was living, more than the hemoglobin receiving O2 for the rest of my organs?  

Am I not so much as a pound of flesh, but with mind, body, soul, spirit? 

But, it’s time to leave, literally. The wait is over, contemplation done.

Easing open the passenger door to driving away into the darkness. 

What were you doing? Oh nothing, just hanging. 

Electric Homes

you got to remember
that you’re loved and cherished
you just don’t feel it right now
you just don’t feel it yet
can’t trust that compass because i’ll lead you astray
for the self-denigration
for that self-annihilation
you ask yourself how you’ve survived
for the last two and a half decades
and you still write fiction
just to blow off some friction
granted dispensation
but with those feathers entwined with these vines
you wrap your hands around that electricity
coursing through your high ways
while trying to stitch up your own side
stringing yourself up like a marionette
but pain won’t be your puppeteer
if you collapse your hand to the medal siding
and follow that train cart, trusting that engine driver
you’ll make head way off to the edge of the world, 

 back home 

Too Soon

I was holding on
I was pinning too soon
but you won me over
crossed right over
the GW Bridge past noon
I was driving down I-95
nostalgia beating alive
I was spent
Standing as a changeling
the sunset ripening
a taunt bruise
I tried to quantify
tried to sterilize
bad news
but I voted it down
and went downtown
to be bemused

To Love

To love
  is to be lost
    in someone’s eyes
To love
  is to be found
      in your soul, in your life



As man wastes time
time silently
lays waste to man



We exhumed our graves
castigated out of our jaw-clenching dreams
We were back where we grew up
trying to keep the feral animals out
but these ashes keep on mixing in drinking water
and I don’t have enough filters for reverse osmosis
We’re so happy for the neighbors who grew up
got married, had children
caught a breeze,  eyes open 
but we gave up so much already
just to see a future diluted
You already let it all go
drive head long into the dark
So we all head north bound with our torches together
Burning down our last fuel
shedding light wherever there’s even ground
It was a uphill, sweat and eyes battle
foraging for whatever edible
struggling through this undergrowth
but we’ll get alive
even if we have to start a forest fire
we’ll seep into a wet and watery grave
swimming back into the womb
where we incubate 
to be born again
water and blood
to receive new skin