phases
to eat
bullets
pills
or nothing at all
to end
something that was
“just a
phase.”
__ar.
(short one. I don’t have power)
she’s come undone
they say she’s sick
cuz she leaves her windows open
when it’s cold outside-
curtains blowing in the wind;
lost her husband and kids all grown-
they pat my head and say leave her ‘lone
but she fascinates me with
her silver blue hair always tied in a bun.
she told me once she’s come undone
and she has to nap from one to three just to put her shoes on her feet,
i have no idea what she means but i smile
and go back to my house.
II
they say she’s crazy
cuz she piles up trash in cardboard boxes on her porch
while she swats at flies with a dingy hankie-
small hands and wrinkled skin,
she looks so sad so i try to make conversation with her.
she tells me she’s come undone
that her whole world is gone and she doesn’t know why
they left her here.
i have no idea what she means and i walk back to my house
wondering if she was happy i even stopped.
III
They say she’s lonely
cuz she talks out loud when no one’s there
and she rocks for hours as if that is her day’s work.
in raggedy slippers and her housecoat,
with arms folded-
in the middle of winter she sits there with her windows open
curtains blowing in the wind
trash piled up in cardboard boxes-
swatting flies;
i don’t know why they left me here she yells
over and over again;
but now i understand,
she really has come undone.
Conversation with a Child
No matter what they say,
No matter what they do,
Always keep in mind,
They’ll never define you.
Words can often hurt,
As can actions too,
People can be mean,
Throwing all this dirt.
Keep your head held high,
Don’t be mean in turn,
Always take the high road,
A lesson to be learned.
And most of all,
My dear sweet one,
As you go through life..
The ones who know,
And love you most,
Will help you with this strife.
‘Teamwork’ or, ‘John Starks was my favorite sixth man’
Point guard (#1)
Playmaker of the team
Excellent ball handler
Makes great passes
Think Magic Johnson, tallest point guard in history
Shooting guard (#2)
The marksman, usually scores the most
Hangs in the backcourt with the point guard
Is M.J. or Kobe better?
Small forward (#3)
Most versatile
Long-range shooter
Primary defender
Larry Bird, Dr. J or LeBron
Power Forward (#4)
Rebounder
Big guy who blocks
Doesn’t mind playing dirty
Bill Russell, tho Dennis “the Worm” Rodman is probably better known
Center (#5)
Patrols the paint
Strong aggressive rebounder
Imposing presence, like Shaquille “Shaq Attaq” O’Neal
PICK ME PICK ME
Was it by dreaming or
Writing
That I could find out what I
Thought
Nightmares or strokes of a pen
Fairy dust or ink
Screams or words
Not find of either
Does it matter
They both sired
Me
~,%
Specifically
You say you’re nothing special,
But I reject that that is true,
For if you want some solid proof,
Than I can give you one or two.
- You can’t pronounce “specifically”,
Without it getting slurred, - But to this day it still remains,
Your favourite slippery word, - You never eat the sandwich crust,
Like bones upon your plate, - You’ll always be ten minutes early,
But you’re never a second late, - You don’t know how to whistle,
But you try it all the same, - And every day you choose,
To answer to a different name, - You’ve never learnt to cook,
But claim you make fantastic toast, - You’re the first to own mistakes,
And you’re the very last to boast, - You can’t receive a compliment,
Without giving one back, - And everything you are,
Makes up for everything I lack.
Where I Lived Once
I drove by a house where I lived once
A dog named Mike is still buried there
Many years have passed with the vision
Of a hawk with expansive wings and a hunter’s glare
Sitting in the backyard
It looks like a dollhouse to me
Way too small
With a tiny mailbox
I want to relax once again as I did
On a velvet green sofa in the living room
Counting pennies
Admiring fresh hand picked daisies
I want to ride bikes
With my sisters again
And buy ten cent candy
From the neighborhood store
I want to be one big happy family again. Mom,Dad,and sisters and laugh until I cry.
Eleventh Hour
The heat of the day has peaked.
The house smells of mint and lavender
And new mown grass in the twilight.
Soon the frogs will raise their chorus
And the day will melt soft into shadow,
Calling the thousand memories
To yield their stories.
It has happened
I dream in poem
Faking comas
Snorting laughter
Now it has happened
I speak only in poetry
10. Ode to steam
Ode to steam
I pull the shot.
Like a bullet to the brain, but soft
Is lightening ever soft?
In Việt Nam you listen to incense
A pentatonic scale
Can fragrant steam sing ?
The surface of the cup
shimmers with fragrance
The rich warmth of velvet
Can you drink velvet?
Condensed milk childhood
In Việt Nam they ice it
Can you freeze childhood?
Memories curl like steam
A boulevard a café banyan trees
Can memory carry me home?