quick :: quik :: quiq

quick - candy :: quic-k-andy :: qui - q- andy

as the earth betrothed life on to our hands we altered the course of nature
  and founded cults and disembodied governments to check our livelihoods

and we destroyed language

a new beginning

the droning buzzing humming sound of the cicadas singing
  outside my open window as the tepid sun reflects off the silver buckle of my belt
  tickles my eardrums and vibrates through my hollow body
and i can't help but smile


strange how ears ring when it's quiet

places i've been
  places i've seen

waterlogged bathtubs and browning curtains
  damp carpeting and cracked countertops

i've run my fingers along the peeling windowsill
  gritty starchy white paint
  lead paint
    and i've looked out the tarnished windows


  out to green pastures and overgrown gardens
rusting tractors and blooming sunflowers

unkempt wild grass grows a foot tall
  and the wind provokes the angry nests
  of harlequins living beneath the moist topsoil

  uprooting safety

i've felt the wind blow through the room
  cold and salty
like the air of the ocean
    and it hits all four corners of the room
before leaving me with goosebumps and
 chattering teeth

  and the bewildering laughs
of the harlequins that live under me

i have no choice but to retreat
  back out


away from the peeling windowsill
  away from the damp carpet
    away from the cracked countertops
      away from the browning curtains and the waterlogged bathtub
and back
  back to my dream
my coffin



please help me with my bags
  there are so many of them

big and small
  heavy and light

I've been dragging them for over
  a fifth of a century from
        one end of the world to
        the other

and they are breaking my shoulders

they are breaking me
  inside and out

please help me with these

I understand you have bags too
  possibly more than I do

let me give you a hand with some

shame babies

i am sitting on a couch
  waiting for the sun to set
thinking about where i am going
thinking about where i will go
thinking about where i am
thinking about where and when i will start

i drink water from a /nestle/ bottle
  i don't think it's great as /poland springs/
i am tasting the water
tastes like water
tastes like spit
tastes like fluoride
tastes like life

i touch my face and i can feel a whitehead inside my right nostril
  it is painful
i want to get rid of it
i want to get rid of skin
i want to get rid of fat
i want to get rid of fate

the fan blows cool air on to my body
  its constant drone is reassuring
 i have not yet killed myself
  from the doldrums of life
not yet dead
not yet starving
not yet laughing
not yet living

still sitting on this musty couch
  taking in the brightness of the dark attic
  and i wonder what the future has in store
    for a boring asian man like me
will i go out tonight
will i drink beer tonight
will i have sex tonight
will i have sex tonight
will i have sex tonight
will i have sex tonight

will i meet someone tonight
will i meet someone again tomorrow
will i meet someone after tomorrow
  and start dating
  and get engaged
  and get married
  and get divorced


when we met on the train to damascus
  I was briefly in love with you
  or in love with the idea of love

my mind was in raptures
  when our eyes met
  and you flashed a toothy smile

we talked incessantly
  into the early damascus morning

I felt like I knew you
  from previous years of my life

but this attraction I felt
  to you was just a facade
  of how much I wanted to be with someone

when the train stopped
  your face became cloudy
  as if you knew what would happen

I stood up and tipped my hat
     Have a safe trip."

you stood up teary eyed
  knowing you will never see me again
  heart torn in two
     knowing you may never connect with someone else

and you embraced me
  hoping for a kiss

but I could not;
  I could not hurt you
  the way you hurt me



drink this shit with me
  let's get drunk with liquor

let me throw up in the men's bathrrom
let me sit there and emanate filth
let me be one with the urine stained

drink this flavored vodka and
drink five dollar pitchers of beer

let me go outside to blacken my
  filthy lungs
and make love to this yellowing
  burning cigarette

let me eye fuck the blonde with
  a floral dress
her legs are smooth and i want
  to feel it around my shoulders
let me make love to this
  withering burning

i will be ripe with alcohol
  i will be sodden with it

i will make a fool of myself
  and you will laugh and toss your
blonde hair in my face

my cigarette will be on the floor
  and i will go back inside
angry and i will drink more

you will find me
next to the urinals


born in a factory

i'm going to pack my stuff up
  throw out materialistic shit
like this macbook and this ipod
 and this itouch and this iphone
 and this ipad and this imac

i will deactivate my gmail accounts
  deactivate my facebook and e-mail them
  asking to delete it and i will stop using
  twitter and my updates will have stopped
  at 6,452 tweets last updated august 7th
but i will buy a blackberry and use foursquare
  so people can track where i am but i will not
  know where i am

i'm going to pack long johns and a winter coat
  and buy an atv to go to maine and
  get myself purposely lost and write
  naturalistic poetry
i will make a lot of money
and write meaningful poetry about trees
and the uncouthness of men
and the infidelity of women

i will probably die alone
  or i will begin to have a relationship
with my mother earth and i will live naked
  during the hot summer days and drink nothing but
  stream water and bathe every two weeks

i will smell like dirt and i will smear myself in mud
  and i will write poems caked in mud

i will write poetry in mud and it will be the epitome
  of naturalistic poetry because it is made with real nature
not written in some acid-free leatherbound notebooks that
  people carry around in williamsburg and portland

i will carve poems into tree trunks and when loggers come
  by cutting trees down they will wonder who
  wrote these poems and they will blame it on
  intelligent bears or mentally superior indians

i think i will purchase a plane ticket to maine
  and buy camping equipment

drafting table

i will write a poem while crying

it will be about how women don't like me

and i will delete their numbers from my phone
and when they text me i will ask
                      who is this
and they will reply
                      so and so
                      did you delete my number?

i will not text them back for fear of rejection
  a second time and i will feel my heart
  leap into my throat when i see their names
and i will think about them everyday until i forget them again
and they will text me back asking
  why i didn't answer
and i will not answer them back

  i will write a poem about women
and how much i want to be with one
sharing our
   and lives together

i will say cliched phrases
  and write cliche words
like caressing
  soft and breathtaking
and people will say
                     this is meaningful
                     i can relate to this

i will smile at them and say
                     my heart is broken
and no one will smile
and no one will console me
and women will roll their eyes and say
                     why can't you get over yourself
and i will shrug and never text them back



i finally arrived in california
  hitchhiking my way across
this spotty sky

left my soul behind
  the west coast is the
hedonist's paradise

        the place i seek is not heaven

my neck is stiff as i pass
  colorful women

i pray for a glimpse of their blessings
  but God would not have it
  and i cannot turn my head
to admire them from behind

let me touch their supple flesh
  with my tanned rough hands

let me caress their foreheads with
  my naked fingers

  i have lain on this sandy dune
watching the sky
  hoping for the clouds to pass
day after day
  day after day
day after day

until one afternoon
  someone blocked the sun from my eyes

       she was a  blossoming woman
smiling from ear to ear
  undoubtedly questioning my morals

       she was nine-teen turning twenty
 high on grass
  high on beach
 high on sun
best of all she was
  ready to go

the clouds cleared out
  the sky was brilliant with light
her face was a silhouette
  and i fell in love

       God bless the indian summer



ponder the derivatives of x
                   what is this clacking sound
everytime I got for a drink of water

daydream about thumbs

my balls are not groomed
    let me lick them


think about having yakisoba at momofuku


schedule an appointment with 
      a podiatrist
all this running hurts my feet

need dr scholls
       do they make dr scholls in my size


this wheel makes an awful racket at night


my bed is soft like cotton
  and shredded newspapers
  let me go to bed
it's 7:22am