The River Acheron is one of the rivers of the Underworld in Greek mythology, also known as the River of Woe.
Here I am again—pen to paper, at last.
Ask me not of the darkness in my heart,
nor of the grime that cakes these soles of glass—
a broken porcelain doll with missing parts.
In memory of our greatest regret
Knelt on the ground that encases—
neglected, yet not forgotten—
the bigger chunk of my remnants:
a severed soul of fallen graces.
For Karachi, my beloved
You can hate my city—my city with its murky seawaters
and unsafe, ill-lit streets.
You can leech off the money
and pour it all into the Province of Five Streams.
My son gave me a book
of koans,
as if parenting a son isn’t
confusing enough,
Moods shift when the fog
building by the gate to the bay
decides enough, it’s time to begin
the slow seep through hilly streets
at dusk and even the steady hum
of cable under California changes.
Two routes out of Nikko take forty-eight
hairpin turns to reach
its lake-in-the-mountains destination.
The bus will be full.
he sun commands the lake to dance.
Blue, green, and rubber-ducky yellow
columns shoot up through pinprick stars.
Nothing much, really…
no witness (angel or otherwise)
No spanking the maid under cover of clover, Mr. Coover
It’ll all be just na’kid teamwork couple of
marvel Euro’s on tricky spellings
YES, what was left of the fat chance corporeal slug was rolled flat
Rolled out on kenophobic parade
Spooks’ ghost dance, collegial mischance
Bomb da bards, we say, wrong side d’grass
Listen to your Angel Number, hon… Run!
There it is again (there it
is again) ≈ saucy seventeener ≈
Taxiing down an empty runway
triggers en masse (as we said)