I'm anxious,
You called and said you want to meet
A few hours away,
With her and me.

You know about the drama,
The way I feel about things
I'm sure she's said more
But which will you believe?

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste
In the streets the unheard are rioting
Dashing stones into shop windows
Bam! A sound is banging in my ears

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste
At nighttime I will stay home
Kids robbing dreams from boutiques
Leaving behind a **** of blood

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste
Somewhere I'll be waiting for you
Look for me behind cars shot to pieces
In the silent tunnels of the subway

Go placidly! Go!
You're not made for this life
I am coming in peace; Leave in peace!
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste

(Leeza, my roommate Lisa’s little sister, was off-tha-hook earlier this summer)

thirteen
peach flesh
fabuk buster
nu-metal priss
sexless *******
bitten fingernails
***** babyskin feet
mirror mesmerized
straight-eyed honesty
grouchapottamus
without analysis
corollary sister
wide eyed
hot mess
skinny
pacer
bella
doe

So many doors
tightly closed
the need for more clothing and food
can't be kept out
it's a small hamlet
by the river
when a man stamps his foot
the whole village wobbles
a slap from a woman
and the whole village is flooded with tears
a cough in the dark
reveals bricks of secrets
two old stone mills
like an old couple who
have worn out their lives
wind leaks through four walls
a candle light dim and faint
not a synonym for romance and cozy
but luxury
when they can't afford kerosene
they eat, wash, get in the blankets
before the candlelight goes out
remainder of the light is only
for the maternal needlework
a curve creek
clear and lucid
when catching fish and mud-skippers
they become as happy as the water
joyful shrieks waft
in the smoke from the cooking stove
these scenes which can only be
returned to if time regressed are
very much alive in memory
they just didn't grow with me
many years later the warren
became a rustic retreat
days of the dirt and soil
became a wandering cloud
the stubborn local sounds
suddenly emerge from baseless thoughts
the mushed corn
the yam gruel
carrots and cabbage
feeding the dream
the mountains, the water, the people
the kindly kampung
the birthmark
of that era.