Author: Jun Hua Ea
A Rhyme at All Cost
(for J.K.) Between you and me shall flower no love; To Frisco, Bangkok, Granada — I’d move If fervor for New York mine didn’t glow; To threat of ill and gloom instead I bow...
Water Year
The chicken fevered between witchery in his forearm and the dead counter when its neck was snapped cold. He ran a slit at the throat and held the thing up gushing clean into the...
My Cat, Therefore
My cat can cook. I know this ’cause she drops food into her water bowl. Even she can’t stand the taste of boredom. It makes me more sympathetic toward alcoholics and people hooked on...
End of the Hyphen
Brother, it’s not like I want to marry it! I only like leftover 90’s correctness a little more than you. The reason I lug around this appendage is not to ruin your life with...
Twenty One Fifteen
In 2115, we will fall in love. I will approach you at a friend’s party, or by a painting in some museum, in a chain coffee shop, or a subway platform, the produce aisle...
One Who’s You
I woke up with Jesus in my fist. He was a well-groomed, handsome brunette with modest beard and a perfectly symmetrical face. He wiggled free a little and said “You don’t believe in me.”...
Ode to Merce
So long maestro — we don’t mourn you; you’ve always walked with the sages. When will we enter again that summerspace? Your ethereal garden of pointed light, where birds disperse into spiral oblivion, and...
Reflexivity
I set out to write a poem, and turned out a cliché; a pretty little cliché, like a rose but a little better than just a rose; not a red rose — like a...
Existential Right of a Cliche
Your eyes, a moon-soaked shard of heaven, your face, luciform lilt of sea; I scarcely breathe, lying with you, love, now, my heart so jammed with awe; crammed with the varied parts of you;...
