Photographer X In Action, Hanoi, 2016

The dog in the photograph caught 
Jumping in mid-air does not 

See its elongated shadow 
Being cast on the asphalt 

Some five or six yards 
Behind it, nor that the other 

Shadow next to it belongs 
To a girl sitting in the road 

Looking in the opposite direction 
Behind the dog and now readying 

To take a different photo, nor 
That this girl sees no shadows 

At all, not even those two long 
Oozing tar-like strips from the rear 

Of the black-and-white shoes 
Of the two women directly behind her, 

Who are busy framing 
A different shot 

Of an indifferent dog curiously 
Arrested in mid-air. 


 

Axioms Of A Third Kind

You there, 
You with the stars 
In your eyes, living 
In another world— 

One is the 
Number of the never- 
Ending dream next 
To zero, 

Zero is the 
Number of the 
Stillborn dream next 
To one, consequently 

Still-to-be-born 
Zero and one, 
And one and zero are 
Still one in the end— 

Count your blessings 
On this earth 
While you can, 
My friends. 

On a Phrase Of Randall Jarrell's--From His Introduction To The Selected Poems Of William Carlos Williams

“Nothing is more important than the way it looks” 

If we are to concur with Jarrell’s premise, 
We must take it one step further 
And admit that looks are everything, 

And if so, we must also ask ourselves
What’s to be said of nothing--
That it looks like nothing? 

The Quandary

Nesting inside 
A healthy beast 

Lies another less 
Healthy beast 

Inside another 
Less healthy one 

And so it goes— 
Somewhere therein 

Lies the key 
To the puzzle 

No healthy beast wants 
To solve. 

Fate of a Graphically Novel Nondescript Porno Poet

he knew all 
too well 
his fab femmes fatales 

musings would find him 
graphically broken 
at the end 

of one mushy anticlimactic 
line after another, 
and where 

nothing he laid down 
before them in vain- 
glorious color could stop them 

from coming 
sheathed in plain 
black-and-white 

fictions again and again.