Chengdu Poems

Old Liu

Old Liu has endured
60 winters
treading 'cross wet Sichuan lanes.
Walking onto curbs once more 
he has nothing but misery
to account for all his footsteps.


Aunti Ma

Aunti ma lives 
on the inside of an asphault curb
between bamboo groves
where coal tucks rumble by
On her balcony hang brightly 
colored sweaters, sausages and minced pork.
Her son is in prison and
the government gives her monthly 
majang money
which she invest wisely
in the luck of the draw.


Ting Ting

Ting Ting wears her badge proudly, 
smartly dressed in navy blue
she walks confidently out into the rain,
cappuccino in hand.
Last night she and her husband
made love for a full 3 minutes
while she thought of her first love
and he thought
of the car he wants to buy.


I Used to Have a Friend

I used to have a friend
who wore crimson robes
and talked about sentient beings
until he tried to kiss me too many times
and now we aren't friends
anymore.


In a House on the Hill

In a house on the hill 
behind the lamasary
lives a girl who at will
will
blow a lama.
They say she is the prettiest in the valley.
Her photo
once in the teachers wallet
now hangs on our refrigerator door
masturbation material no more.
Now she is just a girl.


Poetry

I write poems 
for people to read
so that they dont have
to think.


Ama's White Cat

Ama's white cat
has a few black
spots.  
It's hair is toasted golden brown
on both sides.
Topped with blackberry jam
I could eat this crisp pastry
with a hot cup of coffee.
Meow, meow, he cries his way
through another winter
while I feed the fire.


Blue Triangle

A blue triangle
with a picture of
a woman, a man
and a poor soul who
has lost the will
or the ability to walk.
Demons be gone!
Get up and walk!
Everyone else is!
The arrow says, "go left"!


The Alcoholic

I know that the thin man 
with gentle eyes
is not her father.
The man with a shoulder
hunched up as if resting 
on an invisible arm chair.  
The man with curly hair, 
mustach.
The tired man.
The alcoholic.


Her Real Father

When she looks at him
she is looking into a mirror.
Sitting across from him
she is sitting across from herself.
For her mother, the world stops
when he enters the room.
She serves him, beds him down, 
cares for him in the night
while we all listen.
I wonder when they first fell in love
and how they endure
being apart 
for so long.


Hope

We used to be rich among the yellow proletariat.
Now they drink lattes and savor chocolate chip muffins
while I sip my cold coffee and a woman in a parka sweeps
Alas, there is hope yet.

There, there

What does a 40 year old
American man,
unshaven,
scarf wrapped around his head
held in place by a leather gatsby
shivering and wild eyed
look like
while riding on a motorcycle
behind a dearest Zhuoma
barely come of age,
thick hands at the throttle,
eyes pearing foward at an ice road,
face covred against the wind
as he pats her thighs occassionally
like he would a baby's head
in order to say
somehow
there there
life will get better soon.

The Bunk Across the Way

Sometimes it's nice
to imagine the girl
in the bunk across the way
on her stomach
two pearly buttocks
pale as jasmine buds
young like butterflies
face in a pillow
breath quickening
as she has no idea
what your doing back there.
Are you smelling it?
Is your mouth watering?
Is your heart racing?
She only feels your beard
on the inside of her thighs.
This moment will pass quickly for you both
before you fall asleep 
knowing nothing about 
the girl in the bunk across the way.



A Bitch

A bitch is a woman 
who comes in shouting
Merry Christmas!
known by all behind the counter
who kowtow to her knee highs
and tight jeans.
Let the world know
it's a Bank America visa
that worked when she was in Korea
Why does she have the habit
to rub her tight ass
while waiting to sign
the receipt?


Daughters

Do mothers cry 
at daughter's weddings
because they are losing daughters
or because daughters are changing 
into something no longer pure, 
innocent or sacred?


Mr. Wu

Mr. Wu has converted 
the 3rd floor
into a Temple.
As a corrupt man
he can 
afford the golden buddas
that would save him
from all of his sins.


Men In Robes

The men in robes 
are more wicked
than those that they preach to.
Graft, sloth, lust and lies
paint a vivid picture.
The result of their prayers
will be vindication.


Smart Phone

The smart phone was invented
for writing poetry.
Other features are mearly a distraction
for those who are easily
misled.
Life is like this.


Orange

An orange
or a tangerine
fell off a cart
being pulled
on the wet asphalt
its color was brighter
than all the other oranges
put together
and yet was seen as dirty.
The simple man
who lives from day to day
will give it value
and taste its juices at last!


Separation

Love seems like nothing
and infatuation like everything
commitment is empty
while fleeting passion bubbles over
wedlock is sacred
and anything else is blissful
joy at it's peak is sadness
cruelty, tolerable
separation, unbearable.


Within Walls

We live within walls
in a place called ours
I on the balcony smoking my pipe
and writing these silly things
You in your library giggling as you chat
with a friend
the yellow cabinet smiles at me
he wears a flower pot as a cap
the sun shines
breezes blow
it is unbearable for us both we know
to not be outside of these walls
in a place called our own


I am Looking For  Something

I am looking for something
that is the sound of her laugh
the color of her eyes
the blush of her cheeks
the tangle of her hair
the thickness of her hands
the frankness of her words
her statureher smell.


My Counter

On my counter there is a strainer
a cup and a pot of flowers 
shaped like penises
a stainless steel electric water pot
some yak butter cookies
and a coffee grinder bought in Japan
a pipe,  three bowls and a can of tobacco
What isn't on my counter is my soul
and the secrets of my heart.


Cars

I used to dream of a girl 
whose mom drove a white Toyota 4-runner 
She was 14 and I had a motorbike.
I used to dream of a girl I worked with
She was 16 and I had a Volkswagen.
I used to dream of a girl whose last name 
also started with the letter B
She had a 70's Mustang the color of avocados.
Now I don't dream of girls anymore.

Lost Souls

I wish I had a hot,

freshly baked sweet potato

for every lost soul

that I have met

Then I could give each a hot,

freshly baked sweet potato

that I might

comfort my own soul