The stories presented in this section explain, among other things, how the earth was formed and people were made; why the sun is so bright; how the tiger got his stripes; how the mosquito came to be; and why the Da-Trang crabs endlessly scoop up sand.

Faurot, J. Asian-Pacific Folktales and Legends, (p. 12).

I tried to scoop the crusty, blackened leaf into my ice-dry granite hands,

only to see pieces fly off

to be devoured by the wind.

I’m shivering,

but too frozen to tighten my jacket.

I’m tired,

but too tired to move my body to lay down,

too fearful…

I’m full o’ energy,

but can’t budge to use it.

It’s night early,

but I can’t see anything in it anymo’.

We’re not seeing each other anymo’.

I ne’er ’splained why…

I don’t think I understand myself.

It’s moved on since then.

It’ll survive for many millenia mo’.

Huh…

It snuck up on me in the middle o’ the night:

What the (lumpen)proletariat (Da-Trang crabs) produces, above all, are their own graves.

Buddha could not be more wrong:
Though we plug ourselves tight together,
We are not compatible.

1 day walking
I saw a guy raking up my leaves.
I punched a motherfucker.
No, I didn’t.
I lied.
I wasn’t e’en walking.
I didn’t want to lose my warm blanket.
But the leaves were raked, either way.
I haven’t seen them since.
They’ll be OK, maybe.
(dot dot dot)
¡Itchy blanket!

Accompanying music

Only in the night do I feel full,

where the darkness cuts the light stark clear.

Sparked awake by th’sugar treats:

jangling, cooing, thumping melodies.

* * *

Accompanying music

But then the moon must always fall,

revealing all the messiness.

Warped from the ghost with th’world on strings

to choke on millions of inhuman human abstract things.

Falling wind…
weak leaves shake on ends
bright & dim.