Friday, April 27, 2007

East Coast Mekong Vernacular


Let us find refuge in
Unabashed love;

The crescent blade
Tucked against your waist
Held like an organ for self flight;

My sac of collected mango pits
I plant for redemption but never sprout
Fruit in this land of many winters;

Let us pawn them all in for;

Tears and honey,
Hummingbirds and misfortune,
Naga and lock gates,

So we may one day burrow our hands so
Deep into a furious hive of dashes and discomfort

That we are fortunate enough
To understand what hold

The spirit is not war and calls to home,

But a monsoon of poetry & weeps
That fastens the mouth

Sweet like Mekong vernacular
Sticky with the weight of America's

Orange blossom.