Two Poems

At the Barbershop

Me, if I look into the barbershop mirror I want to be a revolutionary       it's not clear, between hairstyles and the art of cleaning out ear wax, which is a more satisfying revolution. I am a dark-skinned, working-class man, and don't normally pay attention to that value, but if someone pastes the color red or white on my eyes, I go crazy immediately      my entire body darkens to the color of blood pudding mixed with the aroma of mint leaves and peanuts. I hate to join the uprising of those at the wine bar but each evening I'm drowned in that piss smell. I crave the sort of wine brewed from the sea      the sea speaks a universal language      the sea cuts hair and cleans out ear wax several times a month      each clump of hair each clump of ear wax      is a ship carrying consciousness of democracy to help shriveled old men become boys with large foreheads incubating dreams of becoming the president.

Chicken-feather-duck-feather Sky

Chicken-feather-duck-feather sky      a sneeze redolent of five spices. Schools over flames, one and all can learn about fear, the lessons dragging from one night to the next each night fear is honed into a sword planted on a head      a place where the wind howls. Fear! That's the kind of music I want to hear      not always good but a safe kind of music. I listen to it endlessly      I listen until death and the criminal just want to return the corpses.

Translations by Linh Dinh