Explosion

Afterimage of a firework

Bright circles bound together

When we are already

Ashes strewn far apart

O Son

O son

As I listen to you sleep

Your breath comes twice as fast as mine

Because you’re running to catch up

Even though you can’t walk

O son

Whenever you leave this room

You die, my heart is killed

Whenever you come back

I spring to life

O son

You grab for my hard food

Even though you still feed

From your mother’s breast

Or rice gruel from her hand

O son

As your eyes and ears sharpen

Mine dim and deafen

As your back broadens

Mine becomes bent

O son

Be not in a hurry

To grow up

For as you rise

So shall I fall

O son

We are planets

Moving in opposite orbits

Temporarily in synch

For a forever moment vanishing instantly

GIRL

Dull-eyed girl
Never listening
Always looking at space
You made me speak your name a hundred times
Each class
Nana Nana Nana Nana

I was surprised
When you came to me afte
And asked how to get your English
As good as my Japanese
Even more thrilled
When you jotted down everything I said
About making it part of your life
Doing something you love in English

I saw you
As if for the first time
Eyes alive
Mind a void hungry to be filled
To go out and change the world

In that instant
You were heart-achingly beautiful
And I knew I loved
My job

The Weight of Things

imagine

you were thrown

into the ocean

above the Marianas Trench

tied to all your possessions

do you think

you could let go

of things

then

?

The Holy Grocery Bill

I have had my fill

Of the Holy Grocery Bill

That God left behind

For us cavemen to find

Inconsistent rules for life

Designed for misery and strife

Where’s the Commandment against rape?

That would separate us from apes

It isn’t there, anywhere

Where’s the fatwah against acid attacks

From a man trying to get back?

It isn’t there, anywhere

Where’s the mizvot against herpes

Given by circumcision slurpees?

It isn’t there, anywhere
Where's the sutra against pillage
Of another cult's  village?
It isn't there anywhere

Why listen to your conscience

When you can kill and rape like God says

I think there’s no doubt about it

We’d be better off without it

But the Holy Grocery Bill’s text

Is just a reflection of our illness

We’d realize we didn’t need it

If only we didn’t feed it

There’s some good items in there too

That are read by far too few

If we fanned the flames of this light

We’d better judge what is right

And see the darkness in our hearts

Is what’s keeping us apart

KATE

Listening to Sharon Van Etten

I remember you Kate

Beautiful girl

Your boyish grin

Your boyish haircut

Thumbs hooked into your jeans

How we’d talk about girls

Playing pool at the gay bar whose name I forget

Listening to silence

I remember the night

Soaking wet

You told me

You had a secret

I said if it was that you were a lesbian

That was half the reason I liked you

And no reason to stop being your friend

Listening to rainfall

I remember the morning

Smoking menthols

You told me

How your first love

Broke your heart and broke off ties

Like half your family and friends

Was already married and pregnant

Listening to nothing

I remember that Toronto night

Eating Greek food

You introduced me

To your fiancée

Two beautiful girls

Making me blush and look away

As you snuck kisses in the restaurant

Listening to my blood rush

I remember that afternoon

At your front door

Your sister told me

About your suicide

Just before your wedding

I walked home crying

Not needing to see the streets we played on

Kate, I love you miss you remember you

IT'S A SMALL WINDOW

In life

It’s a small window

When I can rock you to sleep in my arms, son

It’s a small window

When I can take you in the tub with me

Then wash you clean and dry and clothe you, son

It’s a small window

When you beam at me and smile when I say “Good morning”

Then we talk nonsense to each other for an hour, son

It’s a small window

When everything I do makes you smile or laugh

My off key songs are music to your ears, son

It’s a small window

I will look back through

The rest of my life

JACKBOOTS IN THE HALL

Heard the jackboots in the hall

No chance they’re here for me at all

Those goddamn queers they took away

Their fault for choosing to be gay

Turned and went back to sleep

Jackboots came again this morning

Striding softly without warning

Kicked down the door

Of that half-dressed whore

Smiled and drifted back to sleep

Hello old jackboots I hear

Shaking the floor as you draw near

Those muslims you can take

From noisy prayers give me a break

Yawned and turned back to sleep

Jackboots jackboots came again

This time for my dear old friend

Warned him not to go protest

Got himself into this mess

Took me some time to get back to sleep

Today cannot believe my ears

Tromp of jackboots drawing near

Echoing in the corridor

Till they stop at my front door

Please tell me I’m still asleep

ASIAN REMEMBRANCE DAY

Here in Asia

This time of year

Some folk burn effigies

Spout hatred

Pray for death

Call for war

Some folk light candles

Profess their love

Pray for life

Call for peace

Whatever happened in the past

Right and wrong are dead and gone

On Remembrance Day

It is easy to forget that

FATHERSIZE

20 squats

With you in my arms

20 kicks

With you in my arms

100 laps around the house

With you in my arms

Wash the dishes

With you in my arms

100 kicks

From you in my arms

This is how I Fathersize

Make myself strong enough

To carry you

PHYLLIS' BATH SONG

You’re gonna get bathed

You’re gonna get washed

You’re gonna stop smelling

Like a dirty old sock

We’re gonna wash your back

Then scrub your buttocks

We’re even gonna wash

Your dirty little cock

A PRAYER

Dear son

A month old today

We took you to pray

For health and happiness

Under the rising death ray

A cool mountain shrine

Massive cedars swaying above

Birds trilling in their leaves

Statues of dragons and monkeys

We washed our hands in a spring

Forgive us

Dear relaxed Japanese Buddhist mum

God cursing Atheist old dad

For swaddling you like Sweetpea

On this sweltering day

A portly fellow

In wooden clown shoes

And millennium old bathrobes

Chanted Dadaist poetry

And swished a wand of streamers

A cute maiden

Dressed as bamboo moon princess

Shook a wand of bells

Dabbed a drop of sake on your lip

And gave me two saucers to drink

Anxiety

We paid fifty bucks for a prayer

We paid fifty buck for a prayer

We paid fifty bucks for a prayer

Relaxation

The photos of us

By the giant orange gate

You in your robes

Curious onlookers

The bag of charms and ornaments

As if any of that could protect you more

Than the love and guidance we will give

CONFEDERATION GUNS

The road to Confederation

Began with a fusillade on July 1st

Scything down first-born sons

In sewn puttees and rifles bought on credit

For the Motherland whose cry they answered

Leaving orphans, widows, and siblings

Aimless, crying out under grief and debt

To the Motherland who answered them

By taking their nation on a cold March day

Ending with a fusillade on July 1^st

The road to Confederation

Papa's Song

Papa's got you
HEY!
Papa's got you
HO!
Papa's got you in his hand
Because you are his little man
And together we will stand
Forever

FATHER'S DAY

Thank you son

For drawing me on

Beyond the Doors of Death

As I drew my father before me

Some great men

Live forever when

They make books or bridges

I am just a good man

You rest on my shoulder

Bald head as you dribble

As I will rest on your shoulder

When my hair is brittle

You stand on my shoulders

As I stand on my father’s

And he on his

Stretching back to the dawn

Forgotten but never gone

Sideburns and pomade

Greatcoats and sideblades

Stretching back to sloped brows

Flickering shadows on cave walls

This my first Father’s Day

I thank you for giving to me

DEMOCRACY

Democracy is a river

You can’t step on the same place twice

But it will drown you anywhere

Democracy is a sweet cola

That comes in fancy cans

Whose formula changes every year

Democracy is an old horse

Blind and wheezing

That still pulls our cart

Democracy is a fine-tuned machine

Made in the 1800s

That no one alive knows how to fix anymore

FRIDAY NIGHT BOSOZOKU

On the city’s veins

Giant metal mosquitoes

Echo Friday night

THE MIDDLE AGES

Iron crown upon my brow

Though I was never king

Hovel buried in possessions

Though I never made a thing

Potent in impotent rages

Welcome to my middle ages

RAPE CULTURE

“I don’t like being accused

Of being that type of guy”

He said

Ignoring that

We have all been that type of guy

At some time in life

Before someone told us

Don’t pull hair

Don’t push a girl

If you like her

Or if you don’t

Be a gentleman

Then be a gentle man

“These chicks

Just like attacking guys”

He said

Ignorant

Of fearful nightwalks

Acid attack nightmares

The terrible question

“What were you wearing?”

As if clothes were an invitation

To commit any crime

Safe and secure

He grinned

I stood up

And left him

With his rape culture

ASIAN HISTORY

Asia has so much history

Japan forgets to put it in her textbook

South Korea will never leave a second out

While China is always making her own

And South Korea writes alternate history

Better than fiction

Asia has so many fireworks

Japan exhausted hers a long time ago

South Korea borrows her uncle’s sparkler

China keeps on stockpiling bottle rockets

And North Korea aims hers at her neighbor’s walls

Better than family

GLOBALIZATION

The world isn’t flat

It is flattened

Spun out, sped up

Intensified and concentrated

Words race across the globe

Before they are spoken

What’s ordered today

Gets here yesterday

We are becoming

A single body

With electric nerves

Connecting dumb tissue

Eyes that can’t see the self

Hands that know not what the head does

A head that thinks it commands all

While cancers bloom

In forgotten flesh

STREETS OF KYOTO

Streets of Kyoto

Paved with poetry

From olden days

When drunk courtiers

Floated verses down

Swollen Kamo river

Every time

Walking in Kyoto

Poetry flows

From cobblestones and tombs

Anime hair and fishnet tights

On Kamo riverbank

FORGET FULL

A filmmaker was diagnosed

With early onset Alzheimer’s

“You have a year left

More or less”

He decided to finish

His latest film

Spent his year

Cutting and pasting

The film was released

To rave reviews

But not popular appeal

The filmmaker thought

He decided to recut

His latest film

Spent another year

Cutting and pasting

The rerelease party

Critics smirked with disdain

The public was mad with admiration

The filmmaker thought

He decided to recut

His latest film

Spent another year

Cutting and pasting

It came out again

Critics called it a waste

The public stayed away in droves

The filmmaker thought

He decided to cut again

His latest film

Spent a third year

Cutting and pasting

He died as it came out

He missed the critics lavish praise

The tears and smiles of his fans

The filmmaker was gone

I ask you now

How are any of us any different?

WHERE THEY ARE GOING

English Teaching Professionals!

The posters proclaim

But you can tell in

The panicked horse eyes

Of the smiling gaijin

Who see where they are going

Reflected in the camera lens

Japanese people have it right

Never look where they are going

That way lies fear

Better to bump into travelers

Narrowly miss disaster

Or end in a jumbled heap

Than think too much

BEHIND BARS

To see and be seen

For what’s in between

Our legs

We go into bars

Beat the bush alone

Two birds and one stone

In hand

We lose in bars

SANDCATLES

First castle

I made at dawn

Is long gone

Second castle

I made under the sun

Is a bowl

Fishes swim in and out of

Third castle

I made in evening

Is toppled and lost

Lapped by froth

This last castle

I make in the dark

I hope will last

Until morning and past

When I set sail

ODE TO TONI MORRISON

Reading Toni Morrison again

Ugly acts wrapped in beautiful words

Innocent souls trapped in dirty worlds

Some think Beloved is her ghost story

But to all black people

Slavery is their ghost story

Black woman with blue eyes

Black woman with dead child

Black men emasculated by white

This is no Colour Purple

This is no happy ending

This is the unending horror

Thank you Toni Morrison

For showing the ugly truth

And making beauty from it

LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL

Life is beautiful

Like a retard singing in the subway

Like a chemical fire nightsky

Like a needleless day after chemo

Like an eggshell sucked dry by a rat

Life is beautiful

Never forget that

MORNING BREATH

My morning breath

First gasp of morning

Fresh as a sewer

Like living death

Comes with a warning

Your kisses to skewer