This is not really Chinese zodiac
But born in a year of the rooster last century
I was fated to crow aloud to summon
The first morning glows above the
Rice-fields, pecking here and there
For a seed or a pebble bit close
To my grandma’s straw-roofed
Cottage, ready to put up a chicken fight
With my fleshy crown standing up straight
But never able to fly higher than a broken
Fence, since my body was winged
With more fat than feathers
Only after I died did I manage to travel afar
To an exotic land, when my naked being
Was minced and served for a minor course
In a recyclable plate as in this little poem
In a quiver lies
what hits the eyes
the target struck
an arrow stuck
it can release
with greatest ease
but it will not
it likes this spot
Instead of pointing out
why my way is wrong
you should see
in what way my way excels
when you have, come back to me
and then I will tell you...
I told you so
She: How long haven't I laughed anymore...?
He : Didn't you did yesterday?
She: laughs
-no
He was a college man.
But he needed a job.
So he went to work,
Working as an order filler,
In a wholesale supply house.
They gave him a sheet of paper.
It had numbers on it.
They gave him a cart with shelves.
They said, go through the warehouse,
and pull these tools from the bins.
And put them on the cart in order.
So this loyal conscientious college man,
Began to pull tools from the bins.
And he put them on his cart.
When he came to a bin marked S. Y. 1300,
He reached in and grasped something.
High above the Canyon Freeway
Amid a sea of ivy
Float numerous shiny-stoned buildings
Which comprise Chapparal State College.
Beneath the ivy lie wild strawberries.
These are in the process of decaying,
Causing a pungent odor to fill the air.
Few students know about the strawberries;
They think the smell comes from a broken gas-main.
I have tried to spread the news of the strawberries;
But the students only smile.
And when my back is turned, they laugh.
If I could just get a few of them
To look under the ivy with me.
Earlier in America
it got so cold
we drove west
the far west
the car's tires
stuck to the road.
As a gunman
you menaced shopgirls
your rat-sleek hair
your flashing glasses
small, dirty teeth
the girls adored.
You liked the way
they walked with arms folded
in the cold going for coffee.
You were asshole buddies
Now I will tell you a secret. I am nodding my head.
Now I will tell you the truth. I am stretching.
Now I will tell you something that can't be questioned.
I am waving my hands.
Now I will tell you the facts. I am moving my leg.
Now I will tell you something you don't know. I am
changing position.
Now I will tell you something I'd swear to. I am turning
around.
Now I will tell you something there's no reason to doubt.
I am bending over.
Now I will tell you something that can be proven. I am
raising my eyes.
Now I will tell you something there is no denying. I am
folding my arms.
Now I will tell you something he says is so. I am shrugging
When I read them I'm obliged to project myself
the original author's thrill writing and
the expanse: trees, sky, tremendous dogs fighting:
for me this is to read. There exists no best
translation, however one admires the vain effort
none makes to make it all the same, somehow authentic if not
perfect (meanwhile sickening of the original!).
Oh yucky repetitious pretensions of mind! move outside,
out of sight! get your jaws wide! eat
Mother Nature! Know the ways of the city drag.
Contemplate a while cigarettes and boiling coffee.
Dig cold air! Shut down contraptions (like radio)
and ramble determinedly about — out! Time comes
your guilt will crack, eyes see nameless birds,
it's when reading them, I just have to imagine
the excited writing of the one author
and its openness (streams, thickets, wrestling dogs) -
that's reading - there is no right translation,
just absurd efforts to make it the same in main
respects - oh noble boring iconoclast! get
to the country, open mouthed, chew on miles of hay!
don't you know as long as you're among these
people of cities you'll smoke and burn coffee?
the air is cold! we hate radio. turn it off
and march outside at your leisure, sooner or later
you'll break that guilt, look at rooks and starlings,
stop trying to crease the grass so much in your fingers,
they are not machines! just eat, open your mouth, eat!
I told him
there is no
only way
and
having pulled
his chair from
under him
said
i dont like
your methods
the next time
i met him
he had half
a soapbox
glued to each foot
he felt foolish
It is very late.
I must be disturbing everyone
with my typing.
A shoe
comes in the window.
A nice shoe.
It seems to be
smiling at me.
I'll keep it.
When do I fall asleep?
Now the police come.
I am accused of disturbing
the peace. Neighbors
stand in the door.
I get the shoe.
Holding it