somehow every 3 hours must slip down the throat one

cup of coffee plus a bit of street dust sugar

must remember to release something or other in the stomach to yawn

gasoline, oil, banh mi, beer with hugs pho noodles & etc electricity

everyday, should really birth something to be sure of the story

here: yeah, our self is alive

between life and death

death baring its teeth, on its back & mundane vapid

death ambrosial pungent stalwart brawny or death meticulous, I choose

life, to bring children scampering & reckless  

sometimes elated awaiting birth, I long for a friend

for conversation, for consolation, passionate birth giving

the days of vietnam sea games, ah no

the days of dealing three card baccarat

played for the vanity of winning pocket change with neighbors

to keep healthy for the golden buffalo [some symbolic

bullshit from the casinos]

everything frivolously nonessentially related to i got strangled by the neck
internet, imprinting reactionary material, or printing → a prison
[this dedicated specifically to the young dopers

startling drops, because of the indelible beauty of the streetside] & I

lost touch with friends, for nonsense reasons

I lost even the uterus, ovaries &

the pleasure of intercourse

I, some guy admired for advanced cinematography skills, got into UFOs  

living truly & enjoying

making love while washing my hair online

this time, this place, people throttle the neck and chop down i, e

probably, will have to fuck some imbecile [so boring]

ah, if it could happen in this vietnam to prune away

that unctuous pharisaical letter i over there

so monumental imposing, then it would just be a parrot curled up & tongueless

saigon 2003
 

- translated by James Jack Huynh
- photo by Yến Dương