You heard me. Walked 20 minutes to the Indonesian neighborhood around 16th and Morris, to buy some bubur campur. On the way, I almost got ran over by a Slim Shady knockoff steering his black SUV the wrong way on Broad Street. Almost got splattered into next week. Undersigned, no, deceased. Only 4 bucks, my bubur campur. My inner ears have never been tickled so euphonically by a lover's pierced tongue. Do you know your schwa from your diphthong? I sure don't, but I know what I like. Rice, chicken, egg, bread, vegetables, the small print knotty on the clear plastic cover. I espied some peanuts and fishy specks also, too negligible, apparently, for the official reckoning. I shoved my change into the lint, walked out the jingling door, whistling. Behind that lovely tag hid a sullen rice gruel, I discovered to my infinite sorrow and shame, 20 minutes later, sitting eager-eyed at my dimly lit kitchen table.
Hola, It's Io
- An essay by Susan M. Schultz
- Interviewed by Matthew Sharpe
- Interviewed by Phạm Thị Hoài (in Vietnamese)
- Audio file of an interview by Leonard Schwartz
- Audio files on Pennsound
- YouTube videos
- Posts at the Harriet Blog
- Free Love Pix
- Two poems at Green Integer
- Two poems on Mipoesia
- Two prose poems in Jacket
- Poems translated into Arabic by Tahseen al Khateeb
- A short story in Jacket
- Eight Vietnamese poets translated into English
- Seven Contemporary Italian Poets
- A translation of Roberto Castillo Udiarte's "Vita Canis"
Bouncer, Janus, Bellhop
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.