Friday, October 26, 2012


Remember that game where you take a dream and write something based on it?



1/18/12: Chinese grocery store with lots of different rooms - antechambers - like a labyrinth or palace


All I wanted was a packet of instant noodles
A bag of lychee candy, perhaps,
Or exquisitely seasoned eel
Not to wander through hexagonal doors
Through exhibits of boar’s blood
Tanks of doomed fish, staring
At me with a dull sort of sympathy:

They’re trapped, too.

The first sample table I passed
Employees in smudged smocks
Offered potstickers and soy sauce
But now the men have thin beards
And queues, and the women
Mince around on lotus feet,
Swathed in silks. I want to tell them
My ancestors never bound girls’ feet
Not on my mother’s side, at least,
So they can stop looking at me like that:

As if we have anything in common.

I roll the shopping cart, which has become
Wood, and a donkey is in front of it
So I stop pushing. People shove,
Shout in dialects I don’t know
Though I recognize the phrase
“Capitalist running dog”, from
That one episode of that one drama
That I watched, hoping I’d feel more Chinese
Though my mind holds no analects
Beyond the irrelevant phrase:

We are going to lose him.

- which, I suppose, will suffice.


No, it suffices not. I'd like to revisit that ending - it seems a bit facile.

Btw: in January 2012 I was reading Borges' book Labyrinths. Make of that what you will.

Written September 2012. Sorry for missing Tuesday's post.

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