Side Zone

I suspect he lacks the courage to love me

     there are too many Muslims here

  he says

         as we stand, fingers brush

               brief and secretive

      in a crowd full of beautiful people

this congregation of different souls

              different vessels

     leaky boats

          dots at various ports

                      encircling each other

 gliding past one another

            wearied travelers

                      seeking

                              solace

                    inner peace

                       rejuvenation

             those scattered so far away from home

                    as we all gather here tonight

                     to raise the common spirit

                         a communal journey

                      through the spoken word

                      to invoke the great voice

             that hums in each and every one of us

                     to summon the bright light

             that shines in each and every one of us

 

I feel a great rush

a spark

a shock

the familiar release of love

molecules

burning

expanding

overfilling

every chamber

every muscle in this room

                                                but his

Ice War

gliding across the battlefield
      days after the storm
wonder struck, stunned, dazed by
      crystalline skeletons
twisted, poised, advancing armies
      frozen still, breath taken
waiting for the signal, waiting for the light
      waiting to breathe again

Visitations

Richard Van Camp Tells Spirit Stories

                            ~November 6, 2013~

                  feel so full

     so full of stories

        stories of the dearly departed

  returning for a visit

                                      to warn

                               to guide

     to play fun tricks on the living

                  feel so full

     so full of stories

         stories of flesh and blood

 longing for the visits to never end

        praying

             hoping

                             for safe returns        

                   feel so full

     so full of stories

         stories of soul thievery                                

                  for every life taken

   two stars

         shine ever so brightly

               again  

                    feel so full

                so full of stories

    stories   of   skin   ache   burning

                   glow worms

                       in heat

                       sighing

             heaving     murmurs

                 under a falling

                 star blanket sky

Found in Translation

In this new poem I wrote while I was in Montreal about a month ago, I started to really experiment with structure. But since blogger.com won't format the poem the way I want it to, you'll have to click on this link to read it.

Flesh Tone

I find myself
peeling back
from this windowpane

having been
of great use

sheltering the shame

of skin

darkening
thickening
into a
leather strap

a foreign layer

desiccating
into
unsightly
uncanny cracks

I shudder at being torn
away from you

wilting away
on this frosted surface

having failed
to blend away the pain

a family of trillin’ hip hoppin’ reverbratin’ androids are rattlin’ in Miss G Wong’s throat

i met a chinee artist today.

a chinee? really? a chinee? artist?

yes. a real chinee artist. and oh, my, what artistry, what musicality, what poeticity...

a chinee artist/poet/musician? no way!

yes way. you better believe it.

say, where she from? dis chinee wondah?

china. she was made in china.

ah, i see. just anuddah one of dem mass production chinee. nutting too special. one dollah store special. same ting every year but different colour maybe.

no. she wasn't made in a factory. she was made in china.

she a white devil ghost lady?

no? i mean, yes? i mean, maybe? it's hard to tell? she looks chinee to me. she says her parents are from china. but she felt she had to explain it. she felt she had to tell us. i don't know why. but i knew right away.

ah, chinee stirfry.

but aren't we all a little like that nowadays--a little stirfry? a little asian fusion? a little dim sum sushi bar all-in-one? if i were a bowl of pho, i'd be full of chicken feet, potatoes and meat, flat rice noodles, yellow egg noodles, char siu bun, and steamed fish in a pool of soy and ginger.

yech, humbalung. too muchee. no tastee.

but that's how i like my diaspora.

Enlightenment

Everything I know
about Buddhism
I know
because of you.

I was only a child
then--I believed in you
I believed, I believed
in every word
you said.

One night I sat, cross-legged
and prayed, in front of
the altar because
you
told me to.

That night
instead of going to bed
that night because
you
told me to

I chanted
I chanted
a thousand
and one prayers:

Quan The Am Bo Tat...
Quan The Am Bo Tat...
Quan The Am Bo Tat...

I was too young
to understand
the journey.

I have lost my way since
the night you left me
the night
Quan Am passed me by.