beneath your
skin, a father
tilling
soil with tears
oh, to be an
egret passing angels . . .
amanogawa
these are
my words, not a
plastic
smile dangling in
front of cowards!
be still . . .
brother cockroach
is passing
a peacock
breastfeeding her
baby to
the lullaby
of passing cars
crickets in
bunkers tapping
out psalms
sailing
through a sailor's
dream
to the hell dante
wouldn't talk about
autumn noon . . .
the rustle of a
carabao's tail
haunted at
night when children
lay in bed
staring at closets
filled with monsters
sunset . . .
holding a soldier's
entrails
unable to
sleep, i listen to
godzilla
for the seventh
time this evening
cloudy night . . .
sleeping with a
restless moon
the same
words above your
head in a
caption borrowed
from my ex-wife
she leaps into
the milk fish's mouth . . .
with a candle
the stench of
dragons, the drone
of locusts,
a laborer bowing
to mirrors
morning quiet . . .
the field holds
its breath
this river
will never sing like
the ganges . . .
her quiet sold to
listening . . .
a gnats whispers
between breaths
dancing nude
with guys who want
to be girls
at the wonderland
amusement park
gray skies . . .
she takes her time
. . . undressing
eden passed
me today on her
way to the
airport to catch a
a flight to america
sultry night . . .
rockets whistle
at me!
let pigs fly!
i'm tired of playing
house with you
in a castle
made of wheat straw
gray skies . . .
sipping coke zero in a
my inner
child hangs from
a rubber
tree in vietnam
singing, "that's all"
early morning . . .
stars sip moonlight
with the boys
those eyes!
a television set
playing
old movies in
a cheap motel
summer storm . . .
an old rat lights
incense
ulam and
rice; a worn out
moon sings
karaoke over
the pasig river
sell peanuts
to no one's child,
don't pass go,
wade through your own
vomit and . . . SMILE!
mowed grass . . .
a half naked boy
digging sand
what will the
dead man say when
his house is
torn down to make
room for the living?
full moon . . .
a prisoner peeing
syllables
a cockroach
talks to me in
the dream i
had last night . . .
the naked
boy with a hair-lip
. . . and rain
does he dream,
the beggar on
the busy
sidewalk sleeping with
an out-stretched cup?
a couple
stretching shadows
into dawn
only the
waterfall in
my mind
sings to me when
jeepneys drone
after dark . . .
a beggar changing
shadows
the old
woman selling
dried fish
swats flies with
a make-shift moon
in the highway,
selling cigarettes . . .
one at a time
---------
(for my daughter, krissy)
at the dock
wondering what
to do with
the line mooring
what's left of her
those eyes . . .
pools of thought playing
with fire
chastity . . .
the gray skies of
morning
lighting incense
to cloud buddhas
quiet!
the pond is
. . . whispering
mirrors
bow in the field
to clouds
on their way to
the palengke
autumn morning . . .
a pond moving
shadows
her
reflection at
dawn . . .
pushing clouds
into dog shaped huts
a gray-eyed
woman weaves herself
into autumn
autumn rain . . .
autumn rain . . .
father followed
sticks
of incense through
paper lanterns
milk fish asked
me if he could eat
her shadow
walang cafe . . .
i sent them home
in paper
jeepneys lit with
votive candles
this evening,
like all the others . . .
dark!
in the
quiet between
stars, the child
with a hair-lip
gulping darkness
sitting at
an empty table . . .
the fish seller
our house guest
stares at me through a
crack in the
wall like the villagers
of south vietnam
twilight dawn . . .
a pod of shadows
cross stitch clouds
an add-free
promise behind
every
curtain, dangling
from her nose ring
twilight . . .
wading through a
frog's belly
behind her
smile, a child watching
the same
video over
and over and . . .
twilight . . .
a tadpole swimming
darkness . . .
wondering what to
do with thoughts
parading through
me into walls
that tree
without leaves . . .
heavy rain
friends beg
me to come back
before
it's too late, my
vomit chanting tantras
turtle . . .
your shell a sanctuary
made of stars
she glares at
me as if the world
is her lair
and lions have
every right to roar
nightfall . . .
the same old
bowl of rice
i bow to
no one, typhoon, except
to God; a
a jeepney fording across
ash clogged streams
walang typhoon . . .
an old man sucking
shellfish
is he
senile, the old
man talking
to stuffed animals
or . . . married?
late autumn . . .
chancing wetness
with a kiss
she stood
in front of the
kitchen sink
shuffling leaves like
an old west card shark
robert d. wilson
©2010
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