tiboonda
this morning I awoke in Tiboonda
to the low roar of desert winds
the air crying Ophelia
I had dreamt of shimmering mermaid scales
Bukowski said Love is a Dog From Hell
I think it’s a cat playing with its own tail
book of harvests I
what the critic calls the answer
is the flowering stalk
that spikes overnight
what the creator calls creation
is most similar to two rubies
shining simultaneously
when Jonah sits in his whale
surrounded by ocean
surrounded by whale
the wet echo of his own breathing
is enough
book of harvests II
I was sitting on a bus stop bench
with Cliff Robertson
on Hollywood Boulevard
in front of The Frolic Room
when he said
there’s only two things worth chasing
in this life
women who shine
and the perfect wave
book of harvests III
I knew my father was a sociopath
when I was five years old
I just didn’t know the word for it
tonle sap
I often recall that Khmer boy
with one arm
who rowed his aluminum washbin
out into the Tonle Sap
to the boat where I was sat
just to ask for a dollar
outlet
The Minotaur has stumbled
his wrenched head tucked under one arm
up and out of The Maze
he is looking for a new home
his face contorted, crazed
that might be it
just up ahead
Keith Anthony Francese
7-15-2025
