Friday, January 9, 2009

The Biggest Temple

I cannot look at Buddha ruins for two hours.
Instead I will descend Buddha ruin
stairs for one
and chill with the postcard hagglers
until my hungry yawns
knock Yogyakarta into the sunrise.
The quakes will make Dad drop his camera
onto a breakfast table.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Wisdoms: Mom

"When you were little you really liked chicken nuggets. I couldn't find them at the Pathmark so I asked an employee 'Where can I find chicken mcnuggets?' and he said 'Mcdonalds.' "

Soekarno Hatta International Airport Bathroom

Three locals in flannel lean on urinals. They are smoking.
The middle moustached dwarf cackles something about duty free shit.
I don't look at them when I pee.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Previously Written: Kovalent

I wrote this poem at the 2008 Kundiman retreat. Poetry seems to flow so freely out of you when you're there. Maybe it's the atmosphere. I only know that what little shell guards me was broken for four days.


We're content as sloths. Six species with tummies full of symbiotes, digesting leaves over a month, and we have chemistry

with Mr. Hacker next period. He chases us with boredom, tunnels suck in our eyes over and over throwing our heads balance on drooly palms. I beseech to bathroom but Hacker has elephantitis, "Peps, you pooped last month," no, then I played with my turmoil, he prefers us asleep, when it’s his turn to duty. Smad turkey. He admits thanksgiving dinner aftermath* to our nostrils and we all prostrate. Hacker douses us with Watsons iso tone and his arms and legs champagne, his head sinks into his ribs, his torso poles us into place. Silently the silence comes – is it the end of our world? We are one, we are a robot, a vigilante vindicating through Hackzor’s monocle of justice, dynamiting Mrs. Apted and her physics class strumming gravikords and vacuuming skunks while the thigh magenta grows, grows, then, a comeback, an up smash, an of the fallen living dead sith pink panther nerds*, we see dead people, which limb pointed out the closet empty of economics and theory of knowledge? Love polypeptides yourself because the time is now. Veal patties; they ain’t got dodgeballs on us and we got four more toes.

*Not yet a Cold Stone Creamery flavor

Sunday, January 4, 2009

These are some of my favorite lines from songs:

{Credit to No Doubt}

It's too bad, you're so sad, wish you could have had what I had. And its so sad, its too bad, maybe I could make you feel better. Maybe I'm supposed to make you feel better.

I'm like you, I had it easy, You're dark blue, stained from previous days.

I sip on dreams and choke on real things.

I concentrate on empty spaces, A passive pondering of blankness, Sit down shut up, controlled obsessions.

Am I wasting all of your time, And all my cute days on regret?

Damsel in distress is quite submissive, Look how sun burnt my vanity is.

If we both want the love and I want long enough, Then the ground that we're on might be common.

If you bore me then I'm comfortable, If you interest me I'm scared.

Like a fresh battery, I'm energized by you.

I'm sorry, you've had some scarey days.


"Don't worry!" said the astronaut, "it's not my juice.
Maybe yours." She harnessed the crown
and balanced on the moon.
"I'm Lucky, and I'm home." It's an advantage
like putting sugar in spaghetti.
However, notice the way the clouds stalk around her temples,
bouncing hotly with charisma and youth.
Lucky gasped at them, "This isn't Hong Kong," she gritted.
The astronaut came alone on the moon.