needle always points
this way, not the other way
life, straight and simple

tapping glass facade
with a time-worn forefinger
for something has changed

north has gone astray
besotted with fragrant air
cherry blossom front

thread follows needle
pilgrims wander to the east

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life and death in khánh hòa

the cereal killer died as he’d lived
slaying bowls at a time with cold precision
of course, it wasn’t his decision
it was an early childhood trauma
(as is usual with these kinds of people)
he’d build mounds of corn flakes like a steeple
’til mother beat him for playing with his food
so he grew to hate milk and processed grain
carried all his life this exquisite pain
he thus learned to be an agronomist
well actually, he poisoned the earth
from corner to corner, along its girth
and he tied the cows’ tails in bundles
so they mooed and lost their milk
then life from that point went smooth as silk
until one fateful day in vietnam
he thought he saw a bowl floating in the cream storage vat
but it was his boss’s wife in an oriental rice hat
having a soak, if you please, to nourish her skin
not realising this, he moved in for the kill…
then her voice sounded, agonised and shrill
then the boss busted into the barn with a big gun
boom! boom! then blood flowed like red cordial through a sieve
that stupid cereal killer died as he’d lived

© All rights reserved 2021