Fear on a Sunday afternoon:

My onion-tipped love 
Collects tears in a wine cup 
And sprinkles lemon on top.
Margarita, my friend,
Let's take a road trip -
Running away is only temporary,
But man, does it feel good.

Tornado warning charts 
On emergency TV,
Interrupt my favorite cartoon;
We are children and nothing
Ever makes us completely happy.
Heller found the paradox
That rules our lives,
So I place my hand on the mirror
And watch her wipe off her face;
I'msingingintherain justsingingintherain
My gurgle voice trips
Over questions and desires,
The hands of a clock spinning backwards.

Isabella clasped her wrinkled appendages
To my shoulders after the Chopin,
"My dear, your soul is so old!"

When the earth shakes,
My roots tumble onto the freeway,
Squirming insects stuck in drying asphalt,
Moisture films the window
A cute heart around our initials
As I make fire out of trees.

			- Fu-zu Jen, 12.9.98

	Medea's Lament

So how did she feel?
How did her neck taste,
Yielding jello
Beneath the furious lap
Of your hunger?
Did you enjoy her beauty
Like cherries forked on a plate?
You bit through to her pits
And it was good, wasn’t it?
The sugar of her soft skin,
The groove behind her ear,
The swelling of her tits,
Her creases and curves and
Unarmed surrender.
I know you only did it
Because she reminded you of me.
Yes, an original motive.
And did you remember my hands
When she crawled all over you?
Did her mouth wrestle
My taste from your tongue’s memory?
She satisfied you so well,
In a way honest love never could,
So you harrowed the dirt
Of her passion
And threw away my seeds,
But let me assure you,
There will only be dust in your garden
And weeds where you left me.

		- Fu-zu Jen, 1.6.99


Graphite smears my thumb and index fingers,
Outlining the tendrils and currents,
The complex trails winding forever
Around each other, 
Fusing in motion,
Parallel in unison, 
Marking ancient integrations of
DNA carried through the flashing centuries.

I rise from the primordial soup, patterned
As millions before, yet I am one
And only.
My dirty fingers, the instruments of
Creation and destruction, 
None alike in the
Infinite spawn of Darwin's legacy,
Born of necessity, chosen by an ideal
That we fill textbooks with:
Endless paragraphs
About a concept we do not truly comprehend,
Despite being given
The power to translate the subconscious
Into ink or sound or the drip of May runoff
Into clotted sewage grills -

New York in second grade smoking above me,
These same appendages uplifted into
The darkening sky,
My fingers dirty then,
Dirty now,
The dawn cannot be far.

				- Fu-zu Jen, 8.1.99


			it begins here, i told her,
			pressing two fingers to my heart.
			but i don't let it
					because eventually
			the gardener cuts the stem
				and what would
					my leaves do then?

							- Fu-zu Jen, 7.5.98


Eyes wide open,
Watching the shapes
That crowd him in this night
Of restless direction,
Brain exhausted but alert
To the pathways that carve
Deep trenches of fear
As mortality marches across the field
To engage his trembling body
With the clasp of an unwanted lover,
While he shakes at the promise
Of his demise
And asks for one more dawn,
One more taste of morning air,
With the sun puddling into the sky
Like fruit juice, sweet with
The arguing birds on his lawn
And the cry of children on the street,
To feel, one more time,
The silk of skin between his fingers,
Knowing all could be lost
In this wayward slumber...

But do not fear anymore,
Tremble only because you’re not alone
And my hand is here,
In the naked hours when death
Tempts the demons drilling your mind,
Find some comfort and assurance
In the grip
And the vow
Of a friend.

		- Fu-zu Jen, 7.13.98

Maybe i burned my fantasies and collected the remains in a peeling tin box; i slit my fingers, my knuckles, my wrists, and i buried my open hands in the sooty crisps as if forcing the ash into my bloodstream could make the fantasies real. - Fu-zu Jen, 7.6.98


swallow me
every molecule
touching only yours
drag me in kicking and screaming
muffle me in appendages
and gentle words,
crush me into
the creases of your shirt
slide your leg along mine
coiling around its prey,
form a vacuum with your mouth
tangle your tongue
trap mine underneath,
press your fingers into my spine
spread your sweat down my back,
mold my flesh
like sponge cake
fill your palms with me
breathe salt and fine hairs
share no oxygen but mine,
exhale into my pores
warm and longing,
vinegar and piss,
transfer your aggression
to the pivot of my body
clench my hands in desperation
push away all doubts
a million questions in that glance
your lashes half down
fuse everything you feel,
into one compete urge,
one complete soul
creep into my body
the way you invaded my mind
only when we're like this
does life seem to have meaning.

				- Fu-zu Jen, 12.10.98

	   Too Late
  (a teenage angst song)

          If you can still feel,
          Then it's already too late.
          If you actually care,
          I'm sorry, I can't relate.
     Everything you've done til now
     Has been a lie and a waste,
     What you thought was freedom
     Held you in a gilded cage.
          Are your beliefs truly yours.
          Or did some guy fill you with bullshit?
          His crap is coming out of your mouth,
          And you just blindly let it.
     Check your ideals,
     Your categories and hate,
     The thought of being wrong
     Is one you can't take.
And now you cry
As the illusion breaks down.
There goes your high society,
Hey, babe, welcome to reality's dog pound.
          So don't turn to me
          For comfort or relief,
          I'm beyond your brand-name sweater
          And movie-star jeans.
You let them suck you in,
And now there's no escape,
For you and your kind,
It's already too late.

			- Fu-zu Jen, 1998


Blood puddled
In a hemorrhaging pit.
The gleam blinds him,
Blood smells like iron,
Musty, acrid,
Old stains upon a heart
Of tainted steel.
Your sword
Can pierce,
But only as far
As you can thrust.
He cups a handful,
A dozen worms squirming
Underneath guilty skin.
Blood tastes sweet,
The war comes back
In movie reel unsteadiness,
Zigzag lines shattering
Memories into puzzlement
Down the throat.
Liquefied rubies
Glitter like gunpowder
When sparks kiss.
The sky is closing in,
A drawstring world,
Somebody's out there
Pulling the cord.
He squats by the puddle
And lets the wet grass
Soak his khaki knees.

		- Fu-zu Jen, 3.3.99

"YoU Let mE viOLate yOu"

2 a.m.

I knock on your door,
tossing my swollen head,
hair slack from the rain,
the straps of my dress
napping along patches
of drenched arm.

Your eyes are red ink blots
as you let me in,
and if i put my hand here,
the blots change shape;
your color smears me,
yes i adore you.

With chemicals as nerves,
i can truthfully fake it,
yes i want you
and none other;
in our dark tussle,
slide yourself 
along my stomach,
thighs laughing as you
press them,
i am floating on
mechanical emotions
that only you can evoke.

So lucky to catch you alone,
my dear boy, fuck me some more,
your hunger my reason,
your sudden cry my treason;
i roll over in
the aftermath of blankets,
you are breathless beauty
when asleep and naked,
i stain my lips
with the salt of your
calm cheek,
good-bye my love

I never saw him again.

			- Fu-zu Jen, 2.17.99