The Kingdom of Fruit and Flowers

The Kingdom of Fruit and Flowers is vivid, vibrant poetry of chaos, chaotic love, the lushest of vegetation and heat. We traverse that world as Duras did, falling into drama like Bukowski. The journey unearths Saigon, the mess of it, the mothers with babies, the thieves, the rats. Catch glimpses of the lush and beguiling vistas of Laos, where gold flecks litter the banks of rivers and butterflies sip the Mekong.
The South Pacific, where everything seems young and if you were lucky enough you can catch glimpses of the Kingdom....the simple pleasureof just being with youlounging in the course sandand the dark riveryour soft skincollecting the grainsyour soft skinimbuedthe world turningstretching our shadowswith the evenings getting coldwhen the sun leaveseven in the summerthe salt dried in our sweatchills to the windthe birds of preygo to nestand the salmonfind deeper waters...the girlI would always crawlto her placehalf deadcoldbeaten down, infectedby humanityor more accurately the lack of ifI would get therecold, half deadand crawl into her bedher warmthand middle of the road fleshand she would take me inevery timemaybe because I was beautiful, a writerhalf deadbut with stars in my eyeswhen everyone elsewere never born with themor traded them in for miragesor had them stolenthe only thing she stipulatedthat I take my clothes offtake off the stench of the streetthe wearinessthe lost promisesand be there in the fleshcoldand half dead....
All prayers bring mecloser and further away from youAll songs undoneon these streets we walked onThe scientists stared at the starsand talked of changes in the sunThey teach us how to swimhow to counthow to make moneyand tend gardensNot to loveand be loved...