Chen-ou Liu, CA





I kneel
before the stone cross; a fly
wringing its hands



again, he waits
in line to buy Super 7...
new moon



guests long gone…
debating over the price
of the gift



subway station...
all ears are covered
with headphone sets



her thigh prints
on the waiting room sofa
two watermelons



Buffet King at dusk
enough on your plate
yes, divorced and broke



an eagle's
shadow circles me...
chicken dinner?



catwalk models...
rows of middle-aged men
sit quietly



rewriting poems all day
a voice sounds like my own
yelling, Enough!



from hymn to hymn
the Sunday sermon takes
the shape of her face



Easter morning:
sunlight reflected
from the wine glass



deep tissue massage
what happens between
the poet and words?



Fine Art Gallery
full of still life paintings
her bouncing breasts



immortal through cloning…
he wonders what to do
on a Sunday









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