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“The Big G.” and “Secrets”
By Bryan Thao Worra
_____________________
The Big G.
We don't say his name aloud in serious poetry.
We close our eyes and say he doesn't exist.
I am a modern eastern Peter with a mouth of denials
While the cocks crow at the rising sun.
Right next to a certain master of Jeet Kune Do,
He stood like a giant torii gate
Between my heart and the American flag.
How many people were surprised, when my words
Moved in time with my lips.
Even today, they still believe my buildings
Can't stand the test of time, crumbling
At the first sign of trouble
Like a pasty French defense
Only a swarthy legion of strangers can vindicate.
But the old boy's got stamina-
He's neck and neck with James Bond,
Trampling the Police Academies and Shakespeare plays.
Now, why should I reject this reliable radioactive lug,
Just to be taken seriously by some stiff academe
With erectile dysfunction and a bad toupee?
And in learning to love the reptile,
Perhaps we can learn to love ourselves,
Atomic halitosis and all.
Secrets
Ok, untie me already.
I’ll tell you:
The
secret to good pad thai
is not
the dollop of ketchup
like
that white guy
wrote
after one lousy
cooking
course in Chiangmai
Nor is
it anything
involving
chi or feng shui,
so you
can drop
the
mandala and that wok
you
bought on TV
from
that bald British expat
who
reminded you
of G.
Gordon Liddy.
It’s
just the noodles
you use,
nothing
more
magic than that.
You
ought to know: In Bangkok
it’s
simply an Asian Big Mac
and if
you’re paying more than
200 Baht
you’re getting ripped off.
I’d tell you the secret
to a great bowl of pho,
but I’d never get a meal in this city again.
As it is, I’m a dead man,
My life hung by
a bean thread noodle,
once word gets out.
____________________
Bryan Thao Worra wrote us the following poem in
response to his acceptance. This happens sometimes, and we always think it’s
pretty damn cool. So we use it now as his biography:
I wrote you once
I wrote you twice
Heavens,
I even
Wrote you thrice.
Your news is better than
The number eleven
Or shorts chewed up
By errant mice.
I'll spread the word
Until it's heard
Or I'm stopped in my tracks
By some giant bird.
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