my mother gave birth to me one early morning by a scorching and dry Westerly wind
very same horizon
as the budding root vegetables under our bed
my father away in the rocky mountains
my mother alone with the potatoes and yams
and the mice digging their nest in our house
cries of a child thrown against the walls of Thanh Sơn
Tào Sơn, a rocky mountain
silvery blue mountain
climbing aroids and zoysia grass are no more
he’s scavenger for yams and potatoes in gloriously moonlight
digging his hands into abandoned buffalo’s footprints drinking wholly the summer night

I grew up under the shredded clouds, fields of thin harvests
skinny buffalos sneaking bites of rice at the edge of the field
very mean guards of the fields
drunk every day
took our buffalos as hostages
we followed them in tears through the bruising country at sundown
together with the screams of ravens over our heads

I grew up across windy fields
hot ember winds from the Sun
incinerate our naps beneath the trees
fields bleached white by dead fish
and the old
carried to be buried at the spine of the mountain
decimated by the tramplings of cows and buffalos
sandy soil tumulus void of green grass the entire summer

I grew up listening to my grandfather’s stories about Bác Hồ
I carried with me the stories of the saints, magical godfathers
adoration and fear
utopia
sweet golden fields at dusk
and my mother’s folklore
a winter field
chills to the bone
waiting ravens over our head
I wished for a hole like the homes for mice
to sleep out the whole winter
I craved for a nest full of hay
a sweet sweet
budding potato

I grew up
thick skinned
on my mother’s back the rice paddies sold for my books
I would cross the fields of sparse harvest
cross the mountain scattered with the ox trampled tumulus
cross the headless coconut trees decimated by lighting
cross the battered beaten wives chased by their drunk husbands
cross the corroded blackened thatched roofs
cross the stone homes for a decade without a roof
cross the glowering Sun igniting glowing amber the morning light

my return
the moon will be crystal clear at the bottom of the well
where I freed a perch once upon a time
thin and thirsty
nothing but a giant glorious head plopped on a tiny body
ravens for a while now are all gone

I grew up
left for a town far away
met the ravens of my childhood
they fly
over alleys
over college courtyards
over dark boarding houses
startling raven cries over textbook pages on dark rainy nights
raven’s cries by my window
sound in my sleep
sound through the years I dare not love her
ravens, scavengers in the streets
in their shiny shoes and long beaks
in their shimmering beaded feathers
standing there to watch the sun go down
sad and happy ravens
oblivious
hands in their pockets watching the water in the Hương Giang river
drifts away
void of a wave

returning floods in the street, days in the boarding house
drowned in red earth from the endlessly dead forest
endless forest void of shades of canopies
mice climbing out from the sewers
they stood on the offerings of wandering spirits
on the altar
damp
shivering
clasping their hands together by the ruby red led lights
mice climbing up the foot of the bed
chewing off the tips of the toes of a lad in college on campus
mice at night peeking at the students fornicating
in the dark gloomy boarding houses
tired starving mice in the rain period in Hue
no longer afraid of people
blatant on the walls
chewing on the spirit money

me moving along
beneath an illustrious Sun
followed by mice and ravens
I became a leader
few cool battles
imposing in the street
forceful wind that shook Vỹ Dạ bridge
ravens took to the sky from under the bridge
danced greeted the 21st century
brilliantly in light of a setting sun
Như Ý river as black as the night
splintered at the heart of the city
emanated the stench of time
racket of mice’s drummings resounding
in office
in glory

ravens mice and I
by the honourable Sun
by the majestic mausoleum declared
to uphold a kingdom for the king of mice
hail to the king
long live the king
once the big dream is erected
I can move on
return to the desolate red earth
to dig for budding root vegetables
as sweet as honey
bright white bloody sap of the rubber trees
upon the ground ooze profusely
by the prehistoric laterite
Mausoleums
mice invaded the graves
nest
make love
breed
dig tunnels without rest by the remains
watch men and women scraping
steal rubber sap
make lover under the rubber trees
souls forever in the thick shadows of ancient rubber forests
never seeing the Sun
skin as green as leaves
back and forth around prehistoric laterite tombs
mice with their hands clasped together standing on top of the tombs
bowing to the Sun
oblivious to
the falling dusk

I’m there composing poetry and thoughts of philosophy
by rubber sap consuming mice
by petty thievery of men and women
by the buildings and schools void of the sound of people
nothing but the scuttering sound of mice in the sewers trying to make a living

me lighting a cigarette in the afternoon
making clouds
quell my yearning of the mountains
deter the mosquitoes
mice cravings for a taste of the Sun
prayerful incantations in the shadows

ravens returned to the garbage dumps around town
left the mice behind
with their ears erect
listening to the forest rain in flickers of thunder
rips apart the southern sky
young and olde mice
prehistoric mice
same lineage as those vivid laterite tombs
losing their fur
display their muddy
wrinkly skin
wriggly maggots on their backs
searching for the Sun

thieving men and women
left the country
old villages abandoned
white reeds and water sedge across the land blinding
mice claiming they are kings
by the laterite tombs
festivals
dig up the abandoned fields search for roots of cogongrass
salty
try to grow back their malnourished fur in the shadows
mice organised an election for an emperor
to rule over the kingdom
peace on earth
viva la vida

people home in the mountains
in grass skirts
living in caves
digging for yams under a starry moonlit sky
love each other, lay eggs
against the cliffside ache for each other
I carry my books in an oxcart
in the rain
through abandoned fields
through giant rat caves
through a city in the dark
nothing but bright red massage parlours and mice standing on two feet over sewage covers
admiring the full moon
brilliant across the horizon

the forest storm never ceasing
my oxcart full of soggy books turning into muddy
shimmering
the accumulation of fallen stars
my cart through the sand dunes
illusions
precarious Sun
through stale dried up rivers
stinking mud
through a sea of blood
bleeding chemical
through men in muddy plastic sandals
chew bread by hot tar roads
rolling in sticky dust and muck
through flat chest girls hair coated with red dust
mice with their hands in their pockets
guard the garden of Eden

me moving along
my oxcart of muddy books
dripping onto the road
disintegrating
dissolved inside the howls of the people in grass skirts on the cliffside
antecedent
Garden of Eden

December 2020

_____

TRƯỜNG CA VỀ NHỮNG CON CHUỘT

[30.5.2020, Nhớ bài thơ cũ, một hoài thai đã sinh thành]