I want to have your abortion
oh and I want to fuck up your children too

"so you think this is it hu?"

her bare legs were swinging in the sun as she worked her way through three baskets of strawberries

"basically.. yeah

this is it"

"so all the shit we but up through
all the tears people cry
all the bad poetry, wallowing pop songs, wilted roses, thrown rings
for this?"

she was stretching in the sun now

"what's wrong with this"

he pulled her closer and scratched her face with his stub

she pulled her face away and looked at him

"nothing, that's what's wrong with it
i just thought there would be more of a bang, you know...
a big finale or showdown or something

i should've ran down the airport hallway and jumped onto you, screaming your name"

just let me bleed and leave scars once in a while okay?

organized as such

from the kitchen to the front door

Shakespeare

greek

italian

poetry

(asian hand, reaching for something)

short fiction

non fiction

Modern

English

American

Front door

organized as such

from the kitchen to the front door

Shakespeare

greek

italian

poetry

short fiction

non fiction

Modern

English

American

Front door

MEXICANS: PART TWO

I decided to take side streets home
from the bowels of east la to the west
exiting off of Santa fe
on roads with deep ruts from large mack trucks
a left on washington
and I was driving along the road the metro rail train runs
you sit at stop lights
and watch the train people wait on the platform
tired faces
tired faces who ride buses
and are waiting for the train
the old women in their stalkings and comfortable shoes
the young boys in designer jeans
their only pair
the timeless pair
old ladies and young men
waiting for the train

by the time I got into culver city I was restless
side streets bore you in the city you were born
this mexican tried to pull out on front of me and i gave him nothing
he was trying to merge into the lane and i didnt let him
traffic was at a stand still
he put it in reverse
then sped forward to try and get into the lane again

his car jumped the curb
there were sparks when the car scrapped the pavement
i laughed
he got out of the car and looked at me
he was half the size of me
and he spit in my direction
he had a girl in the car
i stayed inside looking at him
i smiled again
i was sure we was going to walk towards me
i had my hand on the seat belt until I saw her
it was all show
he spit in my direction

and i let him have his moment
I didnt leave the car
I looked at the stereo
game over
he won
he got back into the car

he was in front of me
and i changed lanes
so i could be along side him
at the stoplight
he made a quick right
and i was once again
sitting in traffic

tapping out drum beats
on the stearing wheel

nobody drinks for the taste anyway

right?

it was a tourist attraction

flames on waves

something like that

it looked like barbecue beside a kid pool to her

or maybe a place like that needed to be in a cave

it wasn't eerie enough out in the open

under broad daylight

the sunlight just made it look

...

cheap

the walls were stained

the pond looked artificial

the fire wasn't bad though

licking and dancing

she could imagine it's laugh

the trees were

strange

sausage trees

they had orbs of fruit hanging down from the branches

they reminded her of penises

she saw dozens and dozens of penises hung on trees

DO NOT EAT

TOXIC

they pulled up to the temple

Taiwan Organic Betel Nut was flashing across the curvy mountain street

"your granddaddy hates noise"

her father looked at the parading temple gods

she was trying to concentrate on the S curves and the parking

"your granddaddy likes open spaces"

she knew daddy was talking about the confined shelf space granddaddy's ashes resigned

B1 A9 2

basement one, space A, ninth shelf, second to the left

-------------

she was in sixth grade and had just scored the tofu test

she was sleepy and her pony tail had gotten all messy during the hour car ride

she didn't understand why granddaddy's ashes had to be put way up here in a temple

couldn't they take him home and put him on top of the television set or something?

daddy insisted on driving over to tell granddaddy

she wanted to be cynical and roll her eyes and say something like

he's dead

but she couldn't

she walked sideways down the steep stairs

there was plastic wrap on the ceiling

"Mind Your Head"

in rainbow markers

she walked down and couldn't breathe

all those people

compressed into urns

tagged, pictured and labeled

it was too crowded

daddy pointed to the jug way up

she was too short to see the picture

she thought she should cry

but she couldn't

it was too crowded and she couldn't breathe

--------------

the plastic wrap was still there

the marker sign had faded a little

she padded down the steps and reached for the stool

stepped on it and brushed off granddaddy's urn

and she started babbling about her life

even when he probably had already seen all of it

following her like a soap opera

the closest strangers

she wished

she could at least have a decent memory of him

she could have seen his expression if he knew about the tofu

that last glimpse in the casket wasn't him

that she could have cried at the funeral

she wished he hadn't put that plastic bag over his head

just take care of them when i'm gone kay?

she whispered and kissed

this is silly
i murmur to myself

my chin is resting on my knees
and my arm encircles my mom's right calf
hugging myself and her right calf

she clicks through the powerpoints

is this what being generation X means?
i think to myself
having powerpoints of how much parents care for their children

mom's hand grabs mine in the third slide
where the author writes about pushing her son into the metal doors of kindergarten

she sees his stub of a silhouette tottering

chubby hands wiping off the snot and tears

mom's hand quavers a bit during the fifth

they are at the airport

her son walks into the terminal and doesn't look back

the powerpoint is complete with music

singing how happiness is so much like sorrow

this is silly

i think as i cry

he likes where she has gone in recent days
this digging into the past
the smiles of farmers with capped teeth
the greatest man alive
the money burning
and the selfishness of the gods
the doctors taking blood
but shes right
she understands the mother
the way she invests her soul in the small things
he thinks she is seeing that in her as well

it is all the small things that count

without the small things it all becomes a blur
without the details we try to hold on to
things just go as numb as the sky in Taipei
in January

time knows us better than we know ourselves
she laughs at us when we see her
walking away from the garden
the glimpse of the a young naked girl
before she disappears into
large fronds of tropical splendor
she
time
she knows us
as they say today
"there is no there"
she was there before the garden

he loves that she gets the small things
the devil is in the details is what
they'd say in an empty class room
after the lecture
and the sound of seasonal fall
in the maples
made a dry sound of leaves
outside the third floor

MEXICANS: Part one

i went into ez lube around nine thirty
and told the guy not to touch the air filters
just change the oil, the oil filter, and well call it even steven
i sat in the lobby and read about maggie the street girl
new york circa 1890

the guy next to me had a pony tail and slippers,
he went through his mail with an envelope knife
until the mexican ez lube guy
came up to him and told him
he had a nail in his tire
the pony tail said to leave it there
the ez cholo told him all about his car
he talked about it with such sincerity
this and that needed this and that
this is needed this now
or else the car wont work ectect
this sense of knowing

the pony tail wasnt fooled
he told them to check his abs light
and the cholo gave him a nod, rose, and went back into the pony tails
car to look at his abs light

when the cholo called my name and showed me that
he had taken out the air filters
he had this smile on his face
as I walked towards him
he was going to try and sell me air filters
its their job, they have to do it,
the have to try and sell you shit you dont need
hoping you dont know anything about cars
and that they can scare you, or guilt you,
into buying something you dont need
this america
this is ez lube
this is me about to grab the oil gun and
pump my own fucking oil into my car
cuss im not that american
im not played

she feels like reality is drifting away from her

or maybe she's drifting away from reality

i remember being angry at her
for asking me if I had gas money
outside the hospital
I got angry
because I was sorry
sorry all of this was happening
and why the fuck are you asking me about gas money?

when this has nowhere to go
it puddles in our little brains
and floods the vessels
it needs to go
cuss we want to live
we want to love
and we feel guilty when
we know we must part
we know that sometimes
we are driving that separation
and so they break our hearts when
for being so fake
so nice
happiness and talk of gas money
cuss we don't know what to say
we don't know what to think

we want to tell them
sorry

instead we scream for ponies

if its anything like macbeths wife and her hands
thats no good

i think a part of me is completly insane
but I know EXACTLY where that part is!

i feel like i'm that little wife in bluebeard

trying to rub off the red from my nails in the middle of the night

you sister wants to see a shrink

and she cried about her birthday

mom said it softly

eyes red

a tear clinging to the corner of her eye

why does she want such a big fuss out of her birthday

they aren't such a big deal

is the first thought that flashes

i have never in my god forbid life wanted to see a shrink

second thought

maybe that makes me even more troubled

third

she looks up at her mom

we are what you get when you want to raise children a taiwanese with american stripes

we end up wanting new year's red envelopes and christmas trees and tuition and birthday gifts

your father and i...

we never wanted anything out of you other than your happiness

you have expectations and you know it

you and your sister are so hard to parent, do you know that

yeah

being your kid is no piece of cake too

sis tried to pump him for information
he liked that audacity of it
she thinks she can squeeze him for information
he wonders if telling her that her older sister is
going to marry a mexican mechanic named angel
worked or not
he wonders if she is clever enough to see through it
it was her first
bite sized little test
or maybe
he wonders
if she knows more than she thinks
he understands why big sis wants to protect her now
and he is slowly coming around to the idea of
what this also means to him

Song: Miss Chin? Why, in Peking Opera, are women's roles played by men?"

Chin: I don't know. Maybe, a reactionary remnant of male-"

Song: No. Because only a man knows how a woman is supposed to act"

M. Butterfly

she was one of those temple ladies

hair knotted, gold rim glasses, white from head to toe

you could tell from just looking at her hands though

she had the hands of someone familiar with hell's currency

deft fingers folded the golden papers into triangles

her wrists making quick accurate flings into the dragon painted oven

she was talking in rapid taiwanese

how environmental nuts wanted them to stop burning paper money

what will the gods think?! she exclaimed

he was listening

smiling and listening

those gods

they're used to the good life

stop burning and you'll have trouble that's what i'll tell you

spoiled that's what they are

but what can you do about it?

all this was said with the density of monks reciting passages of the bible

her hands making efficient strokes and flicks

and he chuckling in between

----------------

this was what mao zedong drank, this tea

he says, filling my cup

i pick up the hot teacup

its pungent and strong

leaves its trace in your mouth first time down

doesn't trickle back like other teas

i'm trying to decide whether i like this tea or not

i'm also trying to decide whether i like him

he fits in well at first glance

signature blue and white slippers that people in the country side wear

balding hair

weathered face

its until gramp's friend mentions that he's from the states

entire family's there

he lives in texas

he starts throwing me the questions

what i've studied

what i plan to study

you should have stayed with international business he tells me

could've become a CEO

i don't know what kids these days are thinking

you all live in fantasy

he doesn't even look at me when he says this

expertise should be found before interest

when you have enough expertise in something

then

thenthenthen

you can pursue your every interest

i don't like him from that point on

he prides himself in being an american citizen

too bad that's the only thing american about him

my kids all play sports

they've went to harvard berkley you name it

they can go anywhere they want and get a scholarship

my daughter

universities pay her to study there

for her tennis

i'm thinking

they don't pay her to study there

they pay her to play

ten fucking hours of tennis everyday

who has time for anything after that

i never pay for my kid's university tuition

he says with glee

as if not paying makes him all the more standard american father

and your going to study english

he looks at me from the corners of his eyes

and you want to write with the americans

compete with the americans

i am one of those silly little girls who believe that they can do english cause they hell can't do math

he looks and laughs

i look at him and laugh

i don't despise idiots

its not their fault they don't know better

----------------

why are you sending her abroad they joke and laugh

just find a good husband for her after university

i had a cousin that went to juilliard

wouldn't come back

her mom threatened her to cut connections

made her come back

made her marry

i had a granddaughter that went to juilliard

caught america like a bad virus

forgot about taiwan

wouldn't come back

her mom begged her to come home

she'd told her mom she'd rather send her money then go back

her mom cried some more

begged some more

had her come back

marry a doctor

she became so much more peaceful after marrying

she lived happily ever after

don't stay there gramps says

face long and serious

frowning a little

don't marry a foreigner

leave me

but remember to come back

he bought three bottles of them in penghu
they looked liked used galien bottles
filled with paint thinner and a centipede
he drank it with a taiwanese guy
who just finished singing
house of the rising sun

why are reptiles supposed to make
my penis hard in this country?

one of the bottles exploded at the airport
he imagined customs officials in Los Angeles
pulling out the long centipede
its giant claws that magnified into grotesque nightmare images
but two made it through

he gave one bottle to a wine importer, the other, he gave to his brother
the wine importer keeps it on his desk
i ask him to open it when i visit him
"not a chance," he says

chipped nail polish didn't remind her of anything before

she just liked how it reminded her of the paint on old buildings

then she heard from somewhere about this girl

who would look at the shapes and cracks

like clouds

and imagine them Americas and Africas

she liked that

how the girl could tell something from nails

so she started daydreaming nails

the index finger on her left hand has a man standing on a cliff

it looked like he was going to jump off

but after friday it just looks like he's waiting

or looking at a faraway somewhere

its hard to be sure

there are wild horses on her right hand thumb

horses that are running

they don't have anything to runaway from

she thinks the left hand little finger is a jaguar

or a cougar in hunting

but who is supposed to notice big cats in hunting unless your a scientist with all those wires and night cameras?

its an iguana lounging in the sun

she never liked reptiles

and shouts

what was it?

WHY DOES MY LIFE FLUSH DOWN THE TOILET

or something like that

the thrash and bash of neighbors stomping
he likes the sound
the bending of wood boards
of foot steps
there are days where he has no interaction outside
of lecture halls or classrooms
so he likes the sound of footsteps
and strange movement
only the large gestures pass through
the slamming of a door
the flushing of a toilet
the dropped cork screw

he knew there was something in the conversation
she had mentioned bowie
that she was listening to it
he tried to sing it in the morning
everything went well until the part bowie goes high
she told him to stop
that she could blame it on the connection

he knew there was something in the conversation
rereading M Butterfly its there on the first page
the quote from Bowie
the first line of the song
right before the first scene
the author put bowie before his play

hes going to see the play this friday

with the girl

77 days, she announced

oh and 107 too, she added

what? i looked at her

till this semester ends and till i go to florida.

going to florida is her christmas

do you think i'm weird? she looked at me with her brows scrunched

no, i said, sorta wiping the question off

i don't believe in the "of course your not honey, your special" gushing thing

good, it was the checking something off of your list kind of good, matter of factly good

then she ran up the stairs in threes

she stopped on top and tilted her head down

AM I WEIRD FOR ASKING?

with the girl

she had the spoon full of soggy cereal outstretched

"this is getting icky, i want to fish it out and drink the milk"

i murmured a kind of agreement and went on trying to pick off the tape from her birthday present

a tin can with a carton bunny entitled "popo bunny"

"popo bunny doesn't like me, i give up" i handed her the tin can

she looked at it for a bit and turned to me

"you know if you pronounce it wrong it becomes poopoo bunny, no wonder she's shit colored"

then she easily ripped off the tape and went on with her sugared milk

he says the fish isnt right

she bought it
she paid a lot of money for the fish
sashimi grade tuna my ass
she agrees it doesnt smell right

she says he doesnt use enough dressing in the salad
he tells her to add more

opens the refrigerator and points
to the bottles of different dressing

she looks at the bowl
his home made dressing

the lemon rind squeezed dry
and the fresh herbs and oil

then she looks at the empty bottle
he makes his own salad dressing
it involves real things
she knows it doesnt come from a bottle

she knows this
and wonders why he wont make her more

he is busy getting ready for the trip
three days in the wilderness
nothing that cannot be fit
into a back pack
three days no water

he is packing dehydrated fruit
wax covered cheese
salami

he almost forgot
the cup
one cup
three days
he needs the perfect cup

ken is testing out how to freeze beers
without having them explode in the refridgerator
this is his concern
how to have cold beer
six hours in to a gruesome hike

women are not coming on this one

she is asking for more dressing on the salad
tonights last supper
a carefull dance of need and neglect

he better fuck her good before the trip
she asks me
"why arent you going?"
"I am"
have you packed she asks
"Darling...Ive done biblical deserts...I dont pack."

where sarah looked back
and turned into a pillar of salt
I slept there for three days
on the desert floor in a sleeping bag

I shook white scorpions from my shoes
Im the one who will fast
Im the one who will take nothing

the fish looked good
I wanted to finger it into my mouth
the slabs of sashimi

the men began preliminary testing
when all things were packed...
jon and i arm wrestled with our right
i lost...

ken and I with the left
I won

see you in three days love...

im no right hand man...
but these bitches dont know no desert

give me your heart wrenching bloody smack me in the honesty over i don't knows anyday

there is something about joan didion's voice

it scares her

she opens the book and starts reading

starts shivering

fear and darkness

play it as it lays

i fumble with my waxed apple

and it smacks the floor

splatting

my sister looks up from her history textbook

covered with doodles of emperors with wispy beards

"how in the world do you survive in taipei?!"

she's sitting, back upright, with her sunglasses perched on her slightly upturned nose

idly stirring her coffee

hey babe, he pulls out a chair and sits relaxed

with you looking this good

i should bang the entire board of directors now i'm at it

she pulls down her sunglasses a bit and gives him a scornful look

he's crazy

she should have known better

he orders an espresso and waves the waiter away

i believe your just dying to ask why and how i did it

he took out a cigar and took a puff

well babe, we just snapped the three people in this world that knows the exact recipe of the red bottle

you aren't gonna add coke in whiskey anymore darling

and i knew you were never a big fan of coke with anything anyway

march 27

she's still sleepy, curled up in sheets

hello? shouts the other end of the receiver, then static

she mumbles something

turn on the radio darling, yells the receiver again

just turn on the radio

her hand searches for the dial on the radio

"three high executives from the coke a cola company assassinated tonight"

she's awake now

sits up, the sheets falling off her breasts

he's gotta be kidding her

darling, he says, opening the bright coke bottle,

i believe its time to declare the death of coke-a-cola

she looks up from her bob hair

an eye cocked, eyes looking sideways at him

he feels encouraged,

at least she's half interested

he takes a long guzzle from the can and continues

you see my dear, pausing a bit for effect,

march 27th

its all coming march 27th

it is during times like this when she really wonders why she fell in love with him

he's walking around the room, white tank tucked into his pants

strutting, with a bit of coke staining his mustache

she lowers her eyes back at her novel

distracted again

easter


a holiday in which we commemorate the death and resurrection of jesus
by telling children a
giant bunny
came in the night
and left chocolate eggs for them

.....

and we wonder why were fucked up as a race

are you guys eating?

she asks over the phone.

i knew she would ask this question but i'm still annoyed

no, we're just having a drink

okay then count me in, she says in an receptionist voice, overly polite and sweet

----------

i do it for jesus

we fast to get answers

i'm praying and fasting now

i want to know whether my boyfriend really loves me or not

i cock an eyebrow and stare at her

i didn't even know when she was sucked into christianity

christ

it was easy walking down the catwalk

picking a camera to devastate

putting on different persona after persona

forgetting everything

she loves heels

people would ask

why don't they hurt?

she loves the pain with every step

it reminds her she's walking

he was there for the alcohol

he kept on repeating

alcohol does interesting things to people

makes them say things they didn't know they knew

night clubs never allow people to have an audible conversation

you start hearing what you want to hear

or maybe people don't want to hear

they only want to watch bodies move

they walked into the bright lights outside and a sudden silence hit them

loud and definite

-----------

he's the kind of person that doesn't know when to shut up and watch

she has her eyes locked on the people leaving

drunk and staggering

she wants to hear what they are shouting

she wants to know what alcohol has reduced them to

she remembers repeating

i want to fuck

i want to FUCK

the last time she got drunk

but he keeps on talking about his stories

which author he's read

how many words he's written

trivial

tell me the story babe

not about them

when you find what you've always wanted was so easy to reach

you start wondering why you didn't grasp for them earlier

taipei

she wanted that typewriter

the letters were calling out to her

they sang when she pressed them

a writer's piano

all of the sudden

she didn't care about going clubbing

drinking and flirting with people and all that shallow shit

she wanted the typewriter beside the road

the guy selling had sleeve tattoos

and he knew the want in her eyes

he started showing her how the typewriter could have a hood and how it looked like a brief case when carried around

the whole shebang

then he his sleeve tattooed hand slipped and dropped the typewriter onto the pavement

it gave out a hurt cry

a yelp and screech

something clutched her heart and she squatted near the typewriter

poor baby she murmured touching the keys

sleeve tattoos lowered the price

she wanted the typewriter

she wanted the cream base with the chocolate black keys that stuck sometimes that could only type one letter at a time

she wanted the way thin iron bars would swing and hit the paper

inking it with a short and fat, grub letter

she hated that it was tattoo sleeves selling it

he didn't understand

he probably knew antique cars and whatever

he couldn't do typewriter

latter at the club

her friends would ask her why she looked agitated and moody

every beat that thumped out of the dance floor reminded her of the certainty the bars swung at the paper

the certain rhythmic beat that voiced out truths

but how could you tell anyone how you wanted to be writing

all the second long glances

heavy lids

smiles

outstretched arms reaching for men

nudging shoulders questioning women

on a typewriter

taichung

the balcony was caged in by wooden bars

thick sturdy bars that had age spots on them

set just so that she felt she could squeeze her head through

but found she couldn't when she tried

they had just finished watching Scent of a Woman and they tango scene was still dancing in her head

her hands were gripping the bars and she turned back and asked him

why did you ever go into medical school?

cause it seemed important

he recited that line off with an easy drawl

he was used to getting this question

he was leaning on the wall with his head bent and hands in his pockets

he raised his head and suddenly said

people don't understand what i see

they don't understand what i understand

what are you looking for then?

she was testing him

seeing if he had any shit in him

i want a new definition of humanity

taipei clubbing

why aren't you down at the dance floor? she tilted her head and asked him.

it doesn't feel right... it isn't right to be out clubbing like this... meeting new girls, touching new girls so easily...

he laughed after stammering this, as if it sounded absurd to even him

she grabbed him by his hand

here, i'll take you

she pulled him down to the dance floor and started eagle eyeing all the shorties

the girls with one and a half inch heels and smokey eyes

she started pointing to all the one's with the thin arms, long hair

and his face would cringe at everyone

she signed

you have a girlfriend don't you?

he nodded viciously

and you love her

he looked at her in the eye

sign

let's go back

she knew when to give up

red skies by night
sailors delight
red skies come morn
sailors be warned

taipei cafe

the cat was crouching on the italian coffee maker

staying warm

he glides to and fro the coffee cups

the giant stuffed animal boars

and the heartbroken

if only he could talk

imagine the stories he would mew out

but then again

he would be to proud to say anything to any of us

so apparently

a charlie brown is espresso with hot chocolate

my body shakes and quivers from caffeine but i love it anyway

i curl into a sofa seat and sip and soak in the music

and i see the owner of the coffee shop for the first time

time has etched deep lines into her proud face

she dangles a cigarette and cocks an eyebrow at me

she knows i'm looking

fuck the law

she lights it and inhales

taipei NTU

there is something about the way people ride bikes in NTU

all orderly

the people reminded her of schools of fish

all moving and going towards the same unknown

in clumps

people had to move in clumps

to laugh and scream and shout out crazy shit

wear a preoccupied mask if your alone

act like you have somewhere to go

or something to do

------------------

tell me about NTU

its five hundred billion bucks dumped in to feed a shitload of crazy people

she wears purple stalkings

moulin rouge style with the lace on top showing

spends hours trying to make her tiny breasts pop

posts pictures of herself licking foot long ice cream cones

as if guys in taiwan had foot long dicks

---------------

we are programed to shout when people shout

clap when people clap

NTU just wants to be the first

"jumping off buildings is alot like this"

she said...

she threw a pair of shoes into the sunlight

they caught on a telephone wire,

sending a wriggly wave throught the line

he squinted to the point of bearing teeth

as he tried watching them dance on the line

in and out of bright white light

so early

already hot

"when you see a child jump from a fence,

or a high ledge

theres always that one

who kinda inches off the ledge

thats the one...

keep your eye on that one."


we piled into her van and smoked hash from a coke can

----

already, coming from the big hotels up near the pier

was the morning smell of eggs, french toast, those big hotels

in the early summer heat, just coming hours after the sunrise

on the eve before tourist season

blowing towards venice

mara vista

towards the homes of those cooking

for tourists

she remembers his smile

it streamed like sunlight

or maybe it was his eyes

they smiled when he smiled

he lent her dickinson

she didn't really understand her

but she loved they way the words flowed out of her mouth

musical

he lent her chang

and she read about opium smoking, long nails, shrill laughs, mahjong playing women

marriage for family

for pride

for a war

just never love

do you think she's my bacteria?

he asked

honey, she's your bacteria and the cure

she started staring at the moon after tom robbins
the first time she looked at her, really looked
luna was a thin smile
penciled onto the sky
a bow moon

lately the moon looks like she's dipped in clouds
oreos in milk style
just right for cows to bat their lashes and dance
under the cookie moon

she wants to dance the way cows and bulls would dance
under the moon
twirling and swirling
tails flying in the air
eyes contently closed
cowbells chiming a rhythm of their own

its a marvelous night for a moondance

she sinks into one man after another
trying to find herself
erasing the past after another bad fling

she wants to sink her teeth into them and suck them dry
all those adams
into nothing but dicks and dust

"how could he leave me
dump me
without saying anything?!" she was howling with indignition

she cared more than she wanted to put on

"at least he let you see more of what's this world's made of"

he knew what he had to do
he turned her towards the wall
he felt her low and close
the weight in his hands, the gentle
way in which her light weight draped in his shoulders
she was going to make a sound, buzzed with a hum of feedback
feedback that like love lives only once
like a war siren it takes over the room
and i let her go, i let her howl
and the room vibrates with us
in us
"you go into a trance you know
that wasnt you"

ken is telling me what i do now
that the me standing outside the studio
listening
is not the same person against the wall
ken fucking erased that track
accidentaly
and now he wants me to recreate it

whoever that was, hes gone
"no ken
I cant do it again
not like that
its lost"

now against the wall again
back to the world
the dark brown wall inches from your face
the music kicks up
the volume is at 10
the feedback begins its building hum, shes alive
you hold the pick above the strings
this is going to hurt you, you tell her
the electric guitar is built like a pillar of smoke
of fire, it cries and weeps, but here,
these hands are gonna devour her
biting, chipped tooth and ripped clothing
the smoke fills my head and i leave
again
someone else is playing now

He smoked mild sevens, a pack a day. He held his cigarette like a bad habit he's learned to love.


She remembers asking him, once, why he smoked.


It was cool, he replied. It was cool to be eighteen and listening to Motley Crue and smoking, drinking, too. He added as an afterthought.


Cool my ass, he snorted and took another deep drag of his mild seven.





He listened to rock music. And yet, she felt he didn't understand. He knew all the facts and the bands and the names of the singers. He had the skeleton of rock nailed down, just couldn't bleed rock if his life depended on it.





That was his problem.





his I love yous, his phone calls, walking with him down the street, all of that were just the skeleton. He lacked the blood.





He couldn't bleed.

after not being able to muster anything read-able about him
she concluded that he was not worthy of a post or a write

another day perhaps

when she didn't have to write him to hell

"he's an actor"

definition:

play the part she has already written out for you

paris

faded paper flowers

eighth circle of hell

going native

the model:

long bleached hair, smokey eyes, heels

she is talking loudly, laughing loudly
an extrovert to the fullest

she loves being looked at
she loves being assured

i'm too dark... i look green
while tilting her head just so so the sunlight highlights her face
i'm too fat
while tucking into her chocolate cake and sugary tea
my lids were cut... can you tell
(she blinks at him letting him take a closer look)

snap

the photographer:

overweight, glasses, oily hair

trained from years of nights clicking through albums of dolled up posers
he knows their moves
knows what girls six years younger than him want
knows what they want him to think they think about love
knows what they truly think about love

ahh...
love
always the conversation starter

they open a magazine (japanese)
start commenting on
the furniture
the tiles
the flowers
the girls

(were just another object in the frame
a puzzle piece that happened to have breasts hair and makeup)

"like this!! i want to look like this!! sehxy but not slutty" (loud, taiwanese english)
he just laughs
"anything's possible"
translation:
"dream on honey"

they leave and i can finally hear that the coffee shop is playing i'm all out of love

----------

they both pull out their playstations
short hair, glasses, ignoring their food

eyes locked, hands clutching the game machine, thumbs moving with a fluidity aquired from hours of practice

he's eight
he's twenty eight

the night sessions:



the waiting pose, so far so gone in character


the watches havent come off, and the woman in


the back talks loud with a horrible laugh


black eyes shaped in cat like shadow,the mouth that cries


the blinding light, the echo of the louder speaker, horrible mauve

---------


i like the way you kick for the ribs

like broken eves

you see them shatter before their born

into what?

into what?


---------------




but then again

there is the sound of bob dylan

the sound of the keys being lit up

getting something right


today the scene at the coffee table

surrounded by home schooled poker players

you and paula

jesus

did you need to slam the drink down?

you looked like an asshole

getting something right




-------------




there is red wine from coffee mugs

there is the most rediculous looking drugs on my spanish desk

there is the sound of a throated mean guitar and a cow bell

coming through the neighbors radio

me too

me too

im gonna stay up late

up late

kelly says the wine ain't great

Note to self

read eileen chang
your chinese after all

listen to angry music
make it rock

avoid wallowy taiwanese pop
enough of the crooning lyrics of betrayal

play with your food
even if your friend is looking at you in disbelief

walk into random coffee shops
don't go in if they sell italian food

remember to bring your notebook
stop writing on napkins

baby carrots have invaded taiwan
take advantage of that


ps.
remember to eat breakfast

the cherry blossoms were already sprouting green leaves amidst their cumulus cloud pinkness
all the tourists
the lovers
the union groups
the students

people posing
different people
the louis vuitton carrying ladies with the upturned dark purplish red brown hair
the men dangling cigarettes
the shorts and converse clad girls with straight hair and smoky eyes
the guys with jeans and keys jingling in their pockets

all the same poses
all the same side stance
an open fifth position
smiling the same 30 degrees
hands behind their backs
lovers touching secretly
all backs turned to the cherry blossoms
blooming a thunderstorm

lilith

walking back to his car from the sand
the sun was just beginning to exhale the morning
walking back from the ocean
he saw a black van parked next to his car
it had a red strip that ran up the length of it
just like the A TEAM van
but there are other things painted on the sides of the van
there were large air brushed hedonistic she devils
with tails and betty page hair straddling the sides of this van

all mighty brimstone backgrounds
of fire falling from the sky
as she lookes at you with green eyes,
this one holds a whip
and has skull medallions on her stilletto heels
like steal rosed faces of death above her toes

the end of the world was on the side of her van
she looked like she nearly lived out of it
that van
scattered clothing
strange gypsy cloth covering the ceiling
and silver water bowels for baby sheppard dogs
he saw a girl with sleave tattoos
and short black hair
there was a surfboard leaning against the van on the other side
and she was sliding into a wet suit

he got in the car
opened the windows
and told her he liked the van
"It reminds me of the Coop, his devils," he said
she liked that he knew Coop
He started the car and said goodbye
she said goodbye
she had a British accent
as he drove away
he looked at her van once more
driving out of the parking lot
he caught a look at the front of the van
the front of the van
the front of her van had the word "Wicked"
painted in red horror letter across the front

he stopped the car
and walked towards her

1030
breakfast at the whitehart with ken and josh

1200
shooting guns in the desert

200
strip bar

400
back home with kelly
and write

how absurdly wonderful
the dance of the seven veils

she wishes she could see it
experience it
have her hair fizzed and mind blown
become an artist
create what's beautiful

write whats true

she is suddenly at peace after going to buddha
maybe its just temporary
maybe its true

at least she stops looking at the phone
feeling a twist in her stomach whenever there is nothing

its good to feel free

she believes what she needs to

whenever the telephone rings
whenever i see its her
i know

i pick up the phone
half prepared
she's crying
again

a friendship built on tears
her tears
her worries
her relationship
her insecurities

he didn't love me first
he chose me because he was there

love on baby
at least you know what it is

no love
she looked up from poem
there is no moon
no you
you are not loving
not yet

why are you asking about love?

he asked his professor
the one who speaks 4 languages
two of which so ancient their dead except for a few scholars
"im on vacation...give me a book that will teach me to be patient with women"

"I dont know of any such book"

sigh

the student knows literature isnt good for this
nothing ever turns out good for the person shot with the arrow

he wonders
if she is angry
angry at taiwan
for making her leave
had he left in the middle of the night
she wouldnt have obsessed over him
she would have conquered
she needs to conquere and
say fuck you to an island
that tried to can her
something was taken from her
and she wants it back
she wants the last laugh at a island that
tried to can her into power point presentations
and web camera lifelessness
she wants to fall in love
and she thinks this is complete bullocks
and he smiles
and he wonders
what fresh hell is this?

maybe she has friends for him
maybe she doesnt
she just texted
"holding up?"
what fresh hell is this?
he call her and she has the stomach flu from staying up
last night writing poetry until 4 in the morning
another night
another morning
he loves her and this is all making it only more so
because she is nothing but a friend
when there is talk of a great return
on motorcycles and well scenic paradises of ocean
there is talk of mexico
a new tattoo
or maybe just have the mother on your arm renewed
have the reds more red
have the purple bleeding heart be heart
be bleeding
be the best part of your soul to her
give her honesty and truth
in sea of daggers laced in blood orange sweetness
obscurity
be the best part to her
when she needs you
and have the patience to let her know
when that it is
you have just finished saying
what your professor never could
he never knew this

she kneeled down on the cushioned temple
it was all very zen
the sort of no nonsense temple that didn't do elaborate drawings and angry door spirits
everything was wooden and discreet
even the incense didn't burn off a musty stinging smell

the buddha had knowing look
eyes closed with a mid smile
the "i'm listening" look

she wondered how scientifically this could work
throwing wooden moons for answers

she's started smoking
if only mama knew
every time she lights a cigarette she remembers the look on mama's face when she walked into the apartment
her nose wrinkling and detecting for smoke
"jenny
i think someone's smoking
don't rent this place dear its awful"
dear mama...

she likes the smell that lingers on her fingers
and flicking the ash off
its a practiced move

and
she's started smoking because of him

she wants to steal his smell
so she walks around like a demented perfumist

i want

I want my PhD

I want to be invited to the middle east to disappear into texts for a month
while dining with friends in the late afternoon, when the old city sunlight hits the wailing wall, when mosque sirens beckon the faith full, and friends pour wine over plates of figs, cheese and Palestinian olives from 1000 year old trees

I want to see jesus in hawaii this summer, early, and I want to see old friend of the tireless muse in tainan, late

I want to help ken build the hot tub in the backyard (already in progress)

I want to send my love in packages (already in progress)

I want to take a position in a small town
no one was written to death already
Salem
Portland
a place that has small town characters and strange festivals
involving harvests like a
"squash festival"
"pumpkin throwing contests"


I want someone who can keep me alive
and going in a world that is seemingly at
times hell bent on doing otherwise,

I want someone who inspires me at my darkest hour
I want to inspire in the darkest hour

I want to take long sabbaticals from work
I want Italy to want me

I want to see some asshole get what he deserves,
even when that asshole is me

I want others to see in them, what I see in them
I hope i convey just how little of anything is impossible

I don't want to justify my ego, "whether I'm a man, or not man,"
according to how many women I've conquered,
or conquered lately
cuss that's what that is
hanging women like stuffed animals above
a roaring fire, thinking Im hemmingway,

unless women want to be stuffed above the fireplace
im against noncensual stuffing

I want to continue looking at sports for what they really are...
men, like dogs, will chase a ball...
but different than dogs, we play baseball...
we kill ourselves over balls to prove we have them
we dive into crowds,
we run into walls,
just so we can catch...a ball...
dogs never do this

I want dogs
a pack of them
I want Irish wolf hounds
and an old old jeep Cherokee
with wood paneling on the sides
I want a woman who will love/hates the smell of that car

I want to see Jon cook in a funny hat

and then it would seem,
with all the years this may seem to occupy,
some vast, some now

I would be happy enough just to
stay here with you

listening to wind
being interupted by text messages

and looking at the sand at the bottom
of an ancient yellow bathtub

the last memory she had was of the two whisky bottles
one unopened
the other only half gone

and a thought of how she knew she wasn't gonna get laid tonight

she didn't start throwing up until later
throwing everything up

losing all sense

and then tottering down the pavement and shouting out
"I wanna FUCK"
"I WANNA FUUUCK"
with all her anger
and with

all her lust

it wasn't the fucking that got her

well, maybe that had bits to do with it.

a chinese writer once wrote that
the way to a man's heart is through his stomach
the way to a woman's heart is through her pussy

she laid on the floor, wondering whether he was leaving or not
wasn't he supposed to be leaving?

he got up
lit the candles with his lighter
and started folding the sheets

she sat up and looked at him
just looked
and drunk him in

"smile"

the smile came out before she realized she was smiling

for him

dehydrated claws

"doesn't she know what your doing...I mean...this whole devil thing...
this is for actors not writers"

you couldnt see her body in the slip
it wasn't to be had
she disappears in designer clothing
and she had just returned from italy
so I answered in Italian
"the devil is an actor"
she took off the slip and there they were
i knew she had small nipples
but these, they had nothing to suggest she could ever be a mother
it was my first erection in nearly a month
the sight of these small, little things
yet how they met her body as such
she was beautiful with the slip off
she needed to be completly unclothed to be beautiful

she used to sleep naked next to her window she told me
aware anything could grab her in echo park
she lived in a bad area
I reminded her it was santa monica
nothing is going to grab you

she told me about her mother
how she would go home for visits
and see her mother watching television
with her pants around her ankles
how she never knew her father
only that he liked to jog early in the morning
along the polluted LA river

I told her she looked better without the slip
and I saw how she reacted

"come here then...She doesnt know you want her to find someone else?
Anything but you? She doest know you want her to write?"

I pulled her ankle close to my mouth
and told her to shut the fuck up

"Why are your wrists bandaged?"
she asked over dinner
"Im not sure yet," I said

After we fucked, she told me about mexico
how she drove there with her boyfriend who was wanted by the police for murder
he was scared
they bought chicken claws and wore them around their knecks
driving in her beat up mercedes
she told me the chicken claws accidently got wet
from sweat while they fucked in the back seat of the mercedes
that the claws swelled up and started to smell, like dead flesh

swollen claws rehydrated

"Why do you have womens clothing in your closet."

"Im not sure."

"Is there anything you...ohhhh...ohhhh..ohhhh..."
I woke up and saw the reminents of life

she got him to talk about his father the night before
and if he was him, he thought...
I've lived 75% of my life already

"I will kill myself when my mother dies"
she says

An hour later alone
I'm on the computer
when the text comes

"xoxooxox hugs and kisses from the bright darkness, cassaro."

"how'd a beautiful thing like you get kicked around so much?" I wrote

:) Im tough, just writing papers all weekend. Can't wait till that's over. My week will be more lax. U gonna be around?"

"Im the morning light you know, I will be around."

She needs to write.

He did everything right
thats why its so wrong.

Call it infatuation.
Call it yearning.
Call it hormones.
Call it whatever you want

it is what it is

she erased her words
ohh lord know I
the mortal sigh
paradise lost she doesnt know
the devil steals the show
she has lost me now

i smoked some truth, it was alot stronger than what I had previously had,
im not smoking anymore truth, im getting off the bus here, right here, im off

living hell
poofs of smoke blowing from slanted eyed laughing devils
seductive flashing lights
making everyone beautiful
making everyone dangerous

living hell

he only has one song now

he heard it in the car on the ten freeway, the freeway is named after a black woman
who wouldnt get off the bus in the 60's, but now it was her freeway
the song started with whistling, he had heard it before, he liked, but now,
he hears it, he really hears it, hes hearing it here, hes hearing it hear
he turned on the yellow blinking thing to say sorry to what he was going to do,
swearving across five lanes, waving, get to the side of the road
this city is her city now, this is the freeway he never used with her
yet i use it everyday, everyday

he pulled the car off the side of the road and turned the stereo up
why has she never seen this freeway?
Im going to stop right here, on the side of the freway
th 10 freeway
before venice
near bundy
im going to stop at the side of the freeway with her and play this song
this song

tell me what is wrong with us?
what did i do wrong?
i haven't changed

what is wrong with you?

tell me tell me tell me tell me

tell me your troubles
tell me what's on your mind

TELL ME

tell me all the thoughts that i can't have

tell me what i haven't noticed

tell me why

tell me why you don't care anymore

tell me how

tell me how to make you stay

tell me what you want me to do

tell me

order me

tell me all the things my mama didn't want me to know

tell me how to buy your smile back

she wanted to keep his sound in her
not hearing anything else until it imprinted

she leaned to the car, wanting to curl up and hug herself
and just listen

to stingy chocolate makers
to wavering scales
to coveting faces pressed against windows
to him

she imagined him reading
his mouth forming the words that came out strand by strand

a piece of heaven
a piece of hell

"I don't know what I was thinking. He was a habit. Just a sixteen year older habit that had a car and cash and a bigger playground.
He made me grow up.
He made me grow old. I should have left after the growing up."


And I saw her, pale, with bags under her eyes.

"Girls have a thing with their firsts. I couldn't leave him. I kept going back.
And after all that shit, I couldn't say one thing good about him three months after our three year relationship. I mean who could you blame? He should've known. I was seventeen for christs sake."

four months of schedules
four months of tax forms
four months of some kind of religion
where the pain and pleasure of the world is mute
four months of embryo
four months of sleep walking and trying not to step into traffic
four months of porn
four months of finding porn that looks like you
four months of wondering if cum can clog sinks
four months of avoiding nothing
of winking at black whores
on roller skates rolling down the side of pch
four months of missing you

billy idol
angry drivers
figs
sex
strawberries
white sheets
candles
red heads (haven't seen any yet)
sex
guitars
grayish blue
ice cream
red hands
lucifer
eggplant
tom robbins

Eating a box of over the counter chocolate to cap her cravings of true chocolate did her no good. Cheap chocolate just wasn’t the kind of chocolate that would explode in your mouth and fill it with bursts of euphoria. They came in too small packages and were too soft to start with. They just didn't fill.

1. stay away from women your age, look at Malinda, thats the women your age
2. realize you are at your peek
3. realize your living with death already
4. never park on the other side of the street on wednesdays
5. never forget what it took to get here and start the fucking book already
6. realize your living with death already
7. never trust anyone who's been to Thailand
8. always yell at anyone from Irvine or Monterey Park, we dont need more of them thinking their thinking
9. realize scars is nothing more than cars with an "s"
10. realize your living with death already
11. remember you said you loved her and leave it at that

"I have never paid for sex,"
he says, slapping his cock,
trying for an erection long enough to put a balloon over it

"Shit honey, we all pay for sex,"
she says, watching him

the guys come and go
sliding

in and out of her house

in and out of her pussy

parading their droopy dicks

knowing that others have been there
wanting to be the best

or at least the last

she's dry

but once you start its so hard

to end

valentines day 2010

ken and his on again off again girl leah came over on valentines
earlier that afternoon
I got in the car to go down to the beach for a run
but when I saw the row of cars pilling into the parking lot
on what could be called a summers day I turned around, got the skateboard out
and headed for venice, there were thousands of people out, it looked and felt of summer,
today they say its gonna be the same, monday, I will go run this morning, when the weekenders leave, when I feel alone with you, next weekend ken has declared as the weekend of music, no leaving the studio for 12 hours each day, the studio will have two days of beer, chips, and weed, and we are not leaving until its finished...fuck the pain away was a major hit with the valley house, ken played it for me again, "I love the sound of her voice...its so dirty" leah said, when they left I got on the computer to write you when I saw an email from jesus, she hadnt written anything since last summer, in august she said something about coming to la, last summer, asked if I could pick her up at the airport and I told her to give me the date and time, she never wrote back, I never saw her, about eight months later, on valentines day, she sends me an email of her in pictures, in the pictures she looks about 8 months pregnant, big watermelon of a belly, there is a picture of her belly next to an abalone shell, a picture of her belly next to a baby goat, a picture of just the belly, what a strange little valentines day this turned out to be, i will always guess at things between me and her, i will never know anything, yet as i close the computer I have the faintest glance of prophesy, and im writing it out right now so there is a record of it, so months from now, probably within the year, I think the two of you are gonna meet, jesus and jenny, in hawaii, she thinks her pot, home grown, in volcanic soul and sun, is better than anything ken and his labmen can come up with, well see...

Its winter in Los Angeles and my skin is never really warm.
I am covered in layers and layers until I look like some chicken burrito.
Lights from the television flash in through the half open bedroom door.
You are probably drinking gin and tonic again, strumming that gypsy guitar that your daddy left you.
I am trying to concentrate on millions of women giving birth and snake tattooed lips.

When did music start to have something to say?

I curl up like some hibernating animal and quiver with anticipation whenever I hear paper rustling.
the next song
asleep in your arms

She had singed her hair trying to smoke weed. She stood there, eyes on the weed, confused where the smoke was coming from. The flames had stopped before she realized what had happened.

She saw a ring of white around his grayish blue eyes.
He reached out and brushed off the ashes and crisp strands of hair.
"This is a bad omen"
She laughed.

She was sitting on the counter, legs wrapped around him, wanting more.
She looked up to him. He had stopped moving.
"You have a strand of gray hair"
She waited as he reached out and pulled it out.
He pulled off her wisdom while he was deep and hard in her.

The kitchen smelled of marijuana and blood and sex. There was blood and cum trailing from the white counter to the bathroom, faint traces of heel prints where she had accidentally stepped on the blood. She was standing in the grimy bathtub letting the blood and cum drip out of her, leaving thick pinkish trails on her thighs.

their blood had long been together
she was bleeding all over him
on the counter were stains of red and bile
he rubbed the stain with his index finger
full hard and pressing
waiting for the stain to give

he rubbed out the stain
while she leaked in the bathroom
her legs wouldn't work and she laughed

he liked to feel her quiver
he held himself deep inside her
and gave her the pulse
the shock of being inside her

he sent out a pulse that
circumcision aided in affect
she knew he wasn't trying to cum
and he enjoyed the blood of their sex

her eyes went back into slits of white and convulsion
he held her like this "you have a gray hair," he said
he worked his nerve damaged hands to find the hair
she waited
with him inside her

he found the hair
and took his index finger:
removal, the show,
she looked at it as he resumed fucking her
later on the couch during the tutors
she would tell him he removed her wisdom

he knew they were doing things
neither had seen before
he held the gray hair and stared
at her giving thighs
the light of late afternoon
told him it was the first of several
that he would rip the gray from her
until it grew in places he couldn't reach

he would keep her from death
fuck her in life
and pull all the hairs in between

crashing cars
wish you didn't have to be in the back seat

he never should have left the first time
he remembered thinking
this is one of those moments
where you know things could have gone one way and you went another
he put his feet against the close wall of the engine room
he sat in the first row of the large boat that pulled away froma a harbor
an island, where his life could have been different
he was returning to the mainland, a larger island, still an isloated dream of its own
who was this girl? she would have stayed with him, they were offered a place above a pizza place with belgium beers on tap, they could slowly find their way on this small island
yet they left
they were headed back on a slow boat, in the front seat
facing a white wall, so close you could rest your feet at your eyes level
he thought about the life he left behind
and slept for an hour while she stared at the white wall

time knows us better than we think
she knows we will come to recogzine her soon enough
her signs
her posts
her repititions of people and lights and things said and unsaid
she stings you when you dont listen
she comes in the form of memories poured over
mistakes and curves
lights and things different
you look to the sides of the tunnel for a change
instead of the vast white opening of light at the tunnels
end
you notice
she looks alot like her
the one you loved
you see that time provides you with manna
fallen heavenly ambrosia for the taking
if you only willing to fall alseep to
the idea that their is nothing more than patterns
nothing more than flesh
eye color
pulse
and incense
you will fall asleep in time
noticing that the story repeats
but the detours never really seem to end