Some Tokens

Celestial heaven is a redundant phrase.
Americana makes for good pizza pie.
Giant pickles, tiny lace doilies, the big and small
fascinate the landscape
from sea to frosty heartache
bubble and pop in my clay oven hot

oh my soul
sings a wicked-the-willow-the-wisp for me
my weekend troll
my daily bowl
unquakes with tempered leaveningly

Celestial heaven is a Chinese phrase
badly translated
poorly transmitted
hardly accented
softly prejudiced
so deliberately rhymed

Old forgotten is another redundant phrase
Old remembered is too

A wing, little thing, a brushing of Ming
Pho soup is all the rage

Count my toes again and again
Badly count to nine or ten

Couplets are wings
Half ungainly things, they spry loose like springs

I am accommodating madness
I am seething with joy
Waste reduction is a dietary colonoscopy
Which is another redundant phrase
Copious is an obscene sort of word
Ascending staircases built for the absurd
All fat and slappy like the gringo bird.

Me? So ashamed.

What inside and outside a coin remains
Poised to the nines to count down from one’s gains.
A hole in the middle means it’s foreign ex-change.

I asked her to please explain what this long digression
has to do with what she said an hour ago and began to explain
and I always chalked it up to some mother country cultural thang
but she always had some explanation
for what this and this and this had to do with that
and seemed confused as to why I would need it spelled out for me
and it made me realize that every story is profanely compressed
and that truth is a fragmentary experience

so it makes me think of tokens
wood and metal and plastic and cardboard ones

white and colored human ones
and how they tell a perfect story
so round and so complete

just by being there

it gets you on the bus
and there you go