So, you thought,
it’s too easy
daily declarations
would enslave me.

Bounded, I breathed

in false strings,
warheads cloaked
with declarations
of straw love,

solar winds blow
ions into iridescence
and straw love’s bindings
tumble into nought,

I breathe
three, two, one …

the scent of freedom
almost unbound, soon …



An exclamation mark
between her eyebrows,
she asks him a question.

Gaslights sputter,
then glow brightly,
the room smells of rat.

She takes his rook with a look,
he caws like a self righteous bishop
in love with his mitre and robes.

He never cheats,
the gaslights dip.

A gold locket
floats in her palm,
she sees scales,
the gaslights go out.



Cracks of Angst

A Portrait of an Unhappy Man

He spends his days
plastering broken wings
with transient words
and paper cups
of medications
that seem to dull the pain
of those trapped
in dreary loops
but not the cause,
their jaundiced drugged eyes
infect his gaze,
drawing him deep within
to seek solace
in their fractured worlds;
he slips between
cracks of angst.

And then he spies
a well turned butt,
unmarked thighs
that promise
pneumatic bliss…
her breasts are pert,
he imagines
rose bud nipples,
never cracked
by a squalling infant’s mouth.

He follows…

Haunted by
proper thoughts
of his wife at home,
he wryly recollects
how he told her
before friends and family
on their silver anniversary
“I love every wrinkle,
every scar I celebrate,
such wondrous depths
are etched upon your body
a cartography of our marriage
I love the silver in the gold
of your hair,”
then renewed
his marriage vows,
fingers crossed,
avoiding his own reflection
in the mirror.

He stops…


It’s late,
tired faces
surround him.
He sits
in a corner
on the train
his reflection
in the window,
She sits
beside him
on the aisle
into him.
He draws her gaze
to a magazine
with plastic people.
He opens
his laptop.
Her attention,
snake fast
to his screen.
He stares blankly
at a page.
The wheels
beat out
a steady rhythm.

Vampira in Neon Saigon

Dark is swift swallowing the sun.
Vampira climbs out of the dark tunnel,
Absently sucking on frogs
Playing outside in lily pad ponds
Between the lanes going north and south.
Ponderous heavy rain drops fall
Melting neon light pink, red and mauve
in mirrors on the slick road.

Mothlike Vampira flies to the lights.
She lands and picks her way
Between cars, chairs and bikes
on the sidewalk where people
sit cutting toenails, cooking, eating,
chatting and smoking,
wrapping the day up in stories.

The air is damp, fragrant
with particles transformed
in motor bike engines,
and wafts of chili, lemon, garlic,
coriander from cooking pots,
drying her throat, making her thirsty.
She sees a rat, carefully opens its jugular,
Sucks it dry then throws
the remains to a cat nearby.

Vampira smells despair,
a lonely lover in the park.
She strokes his face
With her cool marble hands
Transfixed he sees the face
Of his one true love.

Vampira kisses his lips,
She nuzzles his neck,
he groans thickly,
She bites ever so gently,
He draws her closer,
She bites harder piercing the skin,
Feeling the sweet blood
Pulse into her mouth.
She sucks rhythmically
in time with the beat
of his fading heart
While neon shines brightly.

One Shot Wednesday