Friday, July 12, 2013


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

Wednesday, July 10, 2013


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

We paid fifty bucks for a prayer
We paid fifty buck for a prayer
We paid fifty bucks for a prayer

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

Monday, July 1, 2013


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 1st
The road to Confederation