apple on a Monday.

fiona ate an apple

on the way home

from school on a Monday

and you know what they say

Mondays are the worst days

children don't get to play

they don't get their way

and they have no say

so when fiona's apple fell away

she was taken

feet off the ground

she was taken

head to the ground

she was taken

pound by pound

she was taken

to lost and found

Mondays are the worst days

and children have no say

they don't get their way

they don't get to play

fiona tried to scream

through the hand that held

her mouth and hand

fiona tried to claw

through the weighty world

to the surface of air

fiona tried to close shut

the door to her soul

and pinned some fingers

on the way

fiona tried kicking the key away

but her lock was jammed

and her window crashed

fiona tried to fix her home

but her pipe began to clog

and fiona began to burst

fiona

Mondays are the worst

and fiona

they say

say no

don't say

say no

don't no

on the way home

fiona was in a bit of a bad way

bits and pieces of a bad day

fiona's voice slipped up the stairwell

then fell down the steps

fiona's voice ran through her spine

locked inside her head

fiona's voice waited and waited

for Monday to pass

read this aloud.

her oh ah 

talking of love

her slow slow

her young young

voice

voicing

the whispers between

two lovers thinking of

two lovers loving

two lovers together

on a bed

of snow

white

and dirt

dirtied

on a fair day unlike today,

a person would equal a person

and the flowers would open,

close and open

and she would open,

close and open

and the sounds are good

and clear and happy

like they always are

on fair days unlike today.

but today we teeter totter

on the seesaw seeing sawing

and you are always on top

and i always below:

somehow i am heavier

than all that you are,

darkness of a night

combined

second by second

by second and second...

her oh uh

talking of sex

her fast fast

her old old

wisp

whispering

the voices between

two strangers thinking of

two strangers estranging

two strangers apart

on a train

to no

where

and distance

distancing.

for my lady with the silky night words.

eating alone at the table behind

my friend there, he sits

with an invisible glow

hot on his face

hot from the laptop desktop

hot, it's hot today, 

it's hot.

orange stains under your nails

orange oils sprayed across your skin

orange you smell 

orange you eat

cold on a fake summer day

his warm hot mouth reserved

only for lunch and

silence at his table

behind my friend and me

next to a barred emergency door

no windows, no light

no fork clinking on his china plate

your hero is so quiet

but his voice is

(when he speaks)

the orange you eat,

the orange you smell

on paper

in air

can you breathe for me?

through his mouth

smoking with words

through his hand

that holds you

by your neck so stiff

tracing your ribs 

your ribs trying tried

to protect your heart

your heart

your heart

can you breathe for me?

the way the

the way the hamlet slowly dies

the way new hamlets slowly rise

ophelia, whatever happened

to that cross you wore?

and wherefore 

that love you bore?

could he have you 

given much more?

only this, and nothing more,

merely this and nothing more:

nevermore, nevermore,

my dear lenore!

with all due respect.

mom always told me 

black is black

white is white

and we are we.

see, i wish you hadn't said that.

i wish you hadn't said that.

and are we defined by colors in this world?

shades of dark and light, screaming

lighter, lighter! crooning

sun is good, tan is great

but only when you start out pale.

see, i wish you hadn't said that.

i wish you hadn't said that.

i don't want to talk about this,

this government and that government,

and this hero and that villain.

i don't want to talk about this,

this hunger and that pain, pain, 

and this rape and that injustice.

see, i wish you hadn't said that.

i wish you hadn't said that.

black power,

girl power,

flower power

and wind power.

oh, and nuclear power.

oh high heavens,

oh my god,

weapons of mass

of mass destruction.

money. give us the money. give

the money to us so we can help

help them, help them.

money. give us the money, now!

give us the money, down on your knees!

give us the money, down on your knees!

see, i wish you hadn't done that.

i wish you hadn't done that.

so, look at me. what do you think i am?

chinese?

japanese?

korean?

chinese?

japanese?

korean?

see, i wish you didn't do that.

i wish you didn't do that.

ching chong ching chong

the little boy said to me.

i think he was russian,

eastern european.

not exactly friend,

not exactly foe.

ching chong ching chong

the little boy said to me.

see, i wish you hadn't said that.

i wish you hadn't said that.

 

blacks bad.

whites okay.

asians best.

he doesn't know it

but dad is 

ethnocentricity at its finest,

racism at its worst.

see, i wish you wouldn't think that.

i wish you wouldn't think that.

said what?

you said what?

motherfucker, you did not just say that.

you son of a bitch, you son of a bitch, you bitch

you ching chong slanty-eyed devil negro nazi jew

you and your allah allah

you and your money

your power

your history books and dirty looks

you dirty gooks

danger, danger on a stick.

see, i wish we hadn't said that.

i wish we wouldn't do that.

so.

so what

if i don't have a name?

do you have a name?

does it mean the stars

or hope

or mother nature at her best?

so what

if i don't have a name?

do you have a name?

does it mean the numbers

of life

of love and joy?

so what 

if i don't have a name?

do you have a name?

does it mean beauty

and war

and men blindly mesmerized?

so what

if i don't have a name?

do you have a name?

does it mean family

and gratitude

and future of mankind?

so what 

if i don't have a name?

do you have a name?

does it mean

and scream

bilingual?

so what

if i don't have a name?

do you have a name?

does it mean you are you

and she is

she is she? is he?

so what

if i don't have a name?

do you have a name?

does it mean...

well...

does it mean anything?

so what 

if i don't have a name?

do you have a name?

tell me, why don't you

tell me

what is your name?

so what

if i don't have a name?

do you have a name?

...oh. i'm sorry.

i didn't mean it

like that, not like that.

voices.

they tell me

you cannot write
for other people:

words are meaningless

meaningless things,

absurd letters upon letters:

letters having sex and

sex is not allowed here.

tell me,

you cannot write

for other people:

their days, their walks--

walks are meaningless

meaningless steps, drumming

footprints upon footprints

on the grass and sand

and sand we wash away

and away we go

go nowhere.

you cannot, cannot write!

for other people:

their childhoods, their deaths--

deaths are meaningless

meaningless events,

silenced goodbyes after goodbyes

and goodbyes are never good

and goodbyes are never good

and good is gone,

gone to heaven.

ode to the unwritten #575.

on nights like tonight,

papers weigh much more than i,

floating leaves on fire.

pens bleed black and blue;

computer keys are waiting;

i wait for myself.

midnight music plays

the harp of each passing hour

one two three a.m.

four and four thirty

five now five o five, oh...oh.

it will be too late.

looking for a home.

i screamed

and you heard me

in that room

with open doors

people filed in and out

stopped to look at 

screaming red circles 

and waterblood

she soaked in 

her tired patience

and silence 

and silence

when he avoided

out of shame

an almost personal moment

he came in through a door

then went back through a door

when was the last time

he's seen a girl cry?

ungentle and rude

and screaming

and screaming

but screams are nice

when the time is right

people are right to be

a little disturbed,

a little frightened,

people are interested

when you scream

see how they move around

this CAUTION

SLIPPERY WHEN WET

avoiding two loose marbles

and walking like they're 80

so careful not to fall

with their eyes on the road

but staring on with their ears

look at this animal

like a mad housewife

without a knife

i screamed and stabbed

at the everything 

that no one saw

i hope you know

i'm just looking for a home,

just looking for a home.

laughing after midnight.

when it gets late,

the kitchen turns on.

or rather, someone,

some one or two,

turns or turn on

the kitchen lights.

they wait for a second

for the mice to clear,

and two or three

for the roaches to hide

somewhere

some here or there,

on the countertop,

shadowed and safe.

after midnight, he calls

his friend from home,

a friend that might have been

someone more than a friend,

and after midnight,

some one or two

dares or dare to walk

into the perhaps now cleared

kitchen, all lighted, 

and maybe ready for visitors.

he says this, some this and that,

laughing, laughing, 

la la laughing into his tiny black phone,

and they ha ha hallucinate 

in the kitchen, some shadows,

on the countertops, some that moved:

shadows that ran and ran out and off

shadows they thought they had seen

shadows in their minds materialized

ha ha haah! ah! ah! unexpectations

while he la la laughed

into his tiny, black, silent phone.

oh, you're wrong. you're wrong.

dog named john cherry (and you won't understand.)

dalmatian in a Korean cute store:

$8+tax in 1998 meant

i wrote 9 days of journal

in Chinese that i would slowly

disremember

when we moved we moved 2 blocks

to the other side of Key Food

on Roosevelt and Main

i got sick again

when nephrons shouted

for anarchy

and my kidneys lost it

for a while

at home,

braiding lanyard on the soft leather sofa,

school and citywides disappeared,

and so the energy to run

or walk

or walk on water

turned to wine.

when i dreamed of

walking without rocks

sinking down into my spine

i dreamed of chases

running in black

and the something that i never saw

so close behind the open door

framed in

episodic repeats

perfectly timed

on better days,

mom said, don't jump on the sofa,

it's new, you'll--

dad said, she won't do it when she's older,

so--

so i jumped unto the cushions

with some guilt and

childhood happened

in the air, in the fall.

when we moved to Forest Hills

i had grown older

and the sofa, still so new,

stopped at the door

of our new apartment:

the leather giant was too tall

and stood for two

hours in the hall.

1 centimeter.

we thought we could overcome

1 centimeter.

mom and dad told me

don't push, it is too tall,

don't push, it is too low.

and do you know why we can't move mountains?

because the sky is too low

and refuses to grow.

so the door said, no,

this will not pass, not pass

with each push we gave.

dad wanted to slash

open the leather

all that leather with the fold-in bed,

all of that expensive new trash.

fire burned through his throat,

burned through his pocket,

burned through his wallet.

"keep the cushions,"

so we kept the cushions.

on Monday garbage day,

when i came back from school,

the fold-in bed

and the beige cured skin

were gone from the curbside.

when i grew up

the journals stopped,

and i forgot Chinese.

$8+tax now comes in an hour,

but they no longer carry

dogs named john cherry.

dad was right. when i got older,

i never jumped on the leather sofa again.

and you won't understand.

on the beach at night.

smoky breaths in the tent

of 2 but 5, waiting for 3 but 2:

she fell asleep

in a body bag dark

blue and orange gray.

thinking puzzling verticals

grown of mysteries in death:

yes. no. yes. irrelevant.

lightflashed in the voices

swarming outside

inkflooded fingers and nails

too long to hold unto flight

black dots spilled like

romance across these hands

too old to swing

blankets loosed

clothing slips

we are confined.

some say hello to say

goodbye to some to say

hello to some goodbye

say goodbye say hello

some say say 

some say sigh

Easter.

i.

rising on sunday

so far so late.

wind grabs your shirt

and tug along,

the pollen flying

trying to find a home.

ii.

eyelashed,

two lips tell me

this is ready

this is good

this is where we are.

i wish i did not fear

water,

water in my ears and

nose, flooded ways.

iii.

feet slipping,

sheets slipping,

bodies slipping

down, down, down

to the place we went

to drown, drown.

iv.

maybe you saw the way

in which the clouds ran

after the rocks fell,

and maybe you thought

something was wrong

that even clouds had to 

escape.

but they could not go

much farther to the east, 

round and 

round and round again.

v.

then i rose,

and then i fell,

i thought, tomorrow.

tomorrow will not be too late.

tomorrow would be fine.

i can wait.

a thought.

if she tells, i'll say...

no, i don't. and you'll

ask, why?

you'll say

that's a lie.

i'll nod

       "i don't hope for hopeless things"

don't hope for soap bubble colors,

not soft baked cookies or soft baked

thoughts 

of sunday grass and breezy breaking 

voices 

soft after hours 

and you'll

ask and you'll ask,

no, no, i don't, i don't...

think about white in spring, autumn,

or falling leaves or falling for

falling bodies, failing bodies

hoping for hopeless things.

meals.

for that tiny body
you can sure pile it on
plate after plate--

is each bite as nice as
the very first
or is it just something
you have to have?

or have you forgotten
the taste of thyme and sage
that once touched
those hungry lips?

bargain.

with every sound you lower the price
of these words
I
you, yes you, you are something, quite something
AM
are, to be, to have been and to always be, be
can you be? can you really be?
SO
SOSO
in the middle? in the middle of good and bad
or just in the middle of everything
unfinished
SOS
calling for help? calling for me? calling for attention?
another one just one just
one more time
oh sorry
the price has dropped
on SORRY.

then i say but don't say
then i wish but don't wish
if i can't cut off your tongue
then please
can you cut off my ears?

ah.

they swirl around you
so fast so fast fast
you see blurs
all you see
blurs

nothing really rhymes
and nothing really runs
but you see all you see
a blur after blur

then you take your fingers
and type out your future
and you refuse to see
all you see
blurs

you are a good liar
but not good enough
not good enough to say
this is not a blur
not good enough to say
i see all i see and
it is good

you see all i see
and
and
blur
and
good
and
and
see?

walk.

on me, step lightly
first
take care not
to break a bone
now
you will have time
to do that
some time from now.

but please
walk on me

it is
(after all)
where i need to be.

walk on me

so that Jesus can say
some words for me
pity me
save me
love me.

walk on me

when they say
nothing
i am worth
nothing
and there is
nothing
of worth or value.

please
walk on me

it is
(after all)
where i need to be.