I am from incense
From water and candles
I am from the three prostrations
needed to enter the baai san (prayer room).
(cold, smooth, watchful tapestries)
I am from the pecan shells, the tree whose nuts
and leaves left small hills of muddy layers

I'm from ginger to contacts
From Ly to Tran
I'm from the headstrong
and the never-wrong
From mou jung! (useless)
and hou gaawi! (how obedient)
I'm from Nama Amituofo with Cha Lua
and Taking Refuge in the Gurus,
Buddha,
Dharma,
and Sangha

I’m from Sugar Land and Bellaire,
2% milk and Pork Sung sandwiches.
From Dad forcing my brother to stare at green
to fight our genetic astigmatism
to Mom making us chant mantras
with rosary beads on the way to school

In the neighborhood pool,
I pushed away floating junebugs
I am those moments—
Chalk on the cul-de-sac

You sit outside on your front porch, with nothing to do but look out on
The dream
Contemplations haunt these new, dusty streets
    intersecting in your mind are regrets not easily left behind
Loving the self inflicted pain produced inside
   Get up and leave that porch
   Make a left and walk until collapse
When will the music come back
A heart attack almost welcoming
A deer in the headlights
Swerve right
Durango has a high high
height

Grips me
Grabs me
Lusts me
Locks me a POP chorus run off rails
Unspecified Undesirable Unseen
But
Understood.
U-Turn leave the
Unholy
Otherworldly siege of temptations
Judas Iscariot ascending as Icarus
Only to realize inevitably dust settles

What becomes of one with a broken compass?
Who leads who in a world of acidreaming prophecies ?
An age of false promises and dot.com **** Bellaire
Ownership
My land of the free
Your home of the Brave
New World without bees

Sweat a skip in the record
Burn what you think you should do
Listen to the ghosts inside your head
Blur… just ******* blur EVERYTHING
Become anonymous
Become famous
Drop out
Knock out Lady Luck      AHHHH ****
Because it is importantly cool not togiveafuck


Lumpy lopsided souls stand in line
Don’t drug inject fluoride Put a plug in the self deprecating whines or get back in line with a gaze of blight
Beg for pearly whites
Everything conspicuous
Everyone a conspiracy
Eat WalledoffStreet as it crumbles
Cash in
Sell out
What?

Yourself.                                                                  (Ascend)

“Cultivate” your garden *******
Not you, Him. who? Johnny Flynn the Banjo God
I will tell you without being candid. You are Candide. And No one will give you what you need

Icy desolated deserted
Macdade Boulevards across lands of death
Induce a sigh of your own breath
Whispering
Eli Eli lama Sabachthani

In deduction
Of an ethnographic construction
I’ll stay in flux
From one State frustrating
Across the lines of another contemplating
The beautiful country Delco
Far! Far … ~away~ >forever inside

For the sake of 3 things holy, in the waves of the wake in pink lake,
I'll swim with a fat snake in a sea quake, hit my head on a leaf rake,
get brain freeze from a milkshake & trash old C.N.N. for bein' fake

Fish blood, fleas in rugs, this is how it used to be no accountability,
Heterophobia is the religion of homophiles, no narcotic/hypnic ****
will make spherically-woozy insomniacs wake to this skeptic quirk
after septicemia renders void weapon-salve logic from a septic dirk
Rabbit-blood-stained tires is how it used to be before responsibility
My psoriasis ointment causes itching with subsequent scratching as
the flu inoculant I'm gettin' makes any inoculated flu more catching
regardless of C.D.C.-denials concerning the hoaxes they're hatching
like P.M. Thatcher's crimes over which old Q.C.'s are still thatching
as Marxian bombs deliver the deaths crony capitalists are matching
that corresponds to a Virginia opossum & the fated *** he is latching
while the American patchwork of patched-up reality needs patching
I prefer green-monkey meat raw with fibro-fatty matriarchal plaque
as a well-off *****, ol' sugar-daddy wacko & natty patriarchal hack
I don't find myself, in bleached skin, hearkening back to bein' black
& living the life of Riley in West Bellaire's draftiest tar-paper shack
with Wonder Woman Lynda **** Carter scratching ****** my back
because the cleavage I got isn't as wondrous as her fantastical crack
that rides cabooses through Indore on an Indo-Euro fascistical track
over the impossible curvature of our shooting, masonical ball Earth
as it spins one thousand miles-per-hour at its fattest Equatorial girth

I don't find myself, in bleached skin, hearkening back to bein' black
& living the life of Riley in West Bellaire's draftiest tar-paper shack
with Wonder Woman Lynda **** Carter scratching ****** my back
because the cleavage I got isn't as wondrous as her fantastical crack
that rides cabooses through Indore on an Indo-Euro fascistical track
over the impossible curvature of our shooting, masonical ball Earth
as it spins one thousand miles-per-hour at its fattest Equatorial girth