Penang, penang, penang,
Piining, pining, pining,
High humidity,
or arid mountain-tops,
And love, to homemade gentle kisses,
grasping at the eternal,
Katmandu fires imagination,
A meeting place,
Or fascinating connection,
Sleep and awe,
With quieted emotion,
Driven into souls,
And held,
Nicely anticipated dreams,
Give way to unpredictable realities,
And soft promises.

AUSTRALIA DAY, BY THE BBQ



CHEER CHEER FOR THE CROWD YS SEE

THE PEOPLE WHO COME TO YOUR BBQ

YOU SEE YOU COOK SAUSAGES A VERY NICE COLD COKE

AND EACH MAN HAS BEER

YEAH YOU SEE EVERYONE YOU SEE WILL PARTY YESEREE

YEAH IT’S ANOTHER AUSTRALIA DAY BY THE BBQ

I BRING OUT 6 ESKIES WITH 400 BEERS

THIS WILL MAKE THE MEN HAPPY

OH BLODDY ****** DEAR

YOU SEE, THERE IS A FEW WELL DONE STEAKS AND A FEW EGG AND BACON ROLLS

OH YEAH, ****** COOL

YOU SEE WE SIT BY THE LAKE IN OUR BLUE AUSSIE GEAR

AND WATCH THE LOVELY FIREWORKS, YEAH, LET’S GRAB US ANOTHER BEER

DON’T FORGET, THERE IS OUR THEORY, DUDE, LAMB LAMB LAMB OH DEAR

YEAH LAMB WILL PUT IN THE A IN AUSTRALIA DAY, YEAH IT WILL OH YEAH

THEN A MAN CAME UP TO ME, AND TOLD ME WATCHA DOING

ARE YOU ENJOYING AUSTRALIA DAY, LIKE IT’S A DAY WORTH CELEBRATING

I HAVE BEEN TO CITIES, THAT HAVE A LOT OF PENANG

FROM FLORIDA, CHICAGO AND THE GREAT BUDAPEST

AND NO MATTER HOW FAR OR HOW WIDE YA ROME

YOU CAN ALWAYS CALL AUSTRALIA

A PERFECT PLACE TO HAVE BBQs, ON JANUARY 26TH

AND WE CHEER COME ON AUSSIR COME ON, YEAH, COME ON AUSSIE COME ON

YA KNOW EACH BOWLER IS COMING DOWN LIKE A MACHINE

THE OPPOSTION IS PLAYING NUMSKULL GAMES IN THE GREEN

WE ARE SCORING RUNS, THROW OUT YA CHEWING GUM

AQND THIS IS THE GREATEST AUSTRALIA DAY, THAT WE’VE EVER SEEN

GO AND HAVE LAMB ON AUSTRALIA DAY

AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE, OI OI OI

HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY DUDES

In Lalitpur, a small city,
a poem in
and of itself,
near to the capital city,
Kathmandu,
in the magic
word-world of
Nepal.

Who in the world is Simrik?

Girl, 15, apologetic,
with the heart of a deer.
who unlike most
kindly requests your criticism.

Ok, here is my criticism.

Your writes are a shotgun blast.
It cannot be that fifteen years
has been granted
a simple eloquence
that writes and feeds
tastes of visions
of a spiced life
far away, but
close by.

winding roads
and the trees,
the train station,
train tracks,
jeeps for taxis.
the market at night.
a few bookstores i wanted
to enter but couldn't/didn't
benches at chowrasta,
aloo chat.
penang momo,
the "aum sweet aum" poster
they had there.
pretty girls in chowrasta.
so well-dressed.

at fifteen I could not
see so well, see so fine.
not I.

i have fallen for boys, and i have fallen for men.
i don't know if it'd still be falling if i only ever
fell for pieces of them. and as for you, you were no
exception. my eyes never knew the ridges on
your body as soft as icing on a cake, or the
veins in your arms and they've only read
your words, your tastes, in pixels, but i
fell anyway, briefly. the heart is a muscle
the size of a fist, an ***** that has nothing to
grow and fit into. you never really know where
exactly in your chest it really is or if it's the right size.
there'll be growing pains in your ventricles and
dislocation to your spine or your stomach to tell you
of that before the cardiologist, and when you find the
cure or place it back to where it was, you'll have
stories written like prescription notes.

One time, when I was fifteen,
(For I have been
fifteen
many times),
I knew that
I didn't know
how to express
the potpourri
of what
was inside
of me,
the desire was
compelling,
the skills lacking,
for I lived in amidst a
family of writers, critics, historians,
and saw the birthmark of my incapabilities
embarrassed rosy red on my face every morning.

my incapabilities.

not Simrik.
oh no.

here's blood clotting where i got bit by a leech at a
monastery, from after the day i told you we needed to drop
to being friends from lovers. deserved it, totally. you had
blisters on your knees, from the day i sent you back.

you said i still had your heart with me.
when i reach the sea in 12 days,
i'll return with the crevices on them
mended with the pieces of
toughest seashells i can find,
wrapped in a sheet of prayer flag
i tore from the monastery,
so that when you place it back
between your ribs,
you'll have prayers
and the sound of the sea
flowing in your veins.

At fifteen, I read Camus
and the sport pages.
At fifteen, I peeked  
at my neighbor's *******
dreamt blonde dreams.
what I knew
was
what I did not know.

so here is my criticism.

you remind me now, this day,
of what
I still do not know
nor can ever hope
to capture as well
as you.

THE AMERICANS SPELL GREY WITH AN 'A,'
THEY LACK SUBTLETY SO THEY SAY,
THAT ALL CATS ARE GREY IN THE DARK,
AND IF YOU ASK A DOG - 'DOES IT HURT?                
HE'LL REPLY -                                        
'ONLY WHEN I BARK!'
SOMEONE BOUGHT ME SOME KEY RINGS,
SHOWING A MAP OF PENANG AND AUSTRALIA,
A MALAYSIAN DOLLAR - THEN I HEARD THE DOG HOLLER,
THEN I HEARD THAT YOU COULD SPELL CENTRE TWO WAYS,
MAYBE YOU COULD MAKE A CHOICE ON DIFFERENT DAYS,
I SUPPOSE THAT WE SHOULD HAVE A THANKSGIVING FOR ALL
THAT, WE HAVE AN I-POD, I-PHONE AND A SAT-NAV,
LIFE'S A TURKEY, A BARKING DOG AND A BEACH,
WHEN I GO FOR THE DYE - IT'S OUT OF REACH!