Bryan Thao Worra
Bryan Thao Worra Poems
Comments about Bryan Thao Worra
Our Dinner With Cluster Bombs
Our pilot packs a Makarov
Flying into the outskirts
Of the old province capitol
Long since delivered to kingdom come.
It‟s bleak, this once-thriving home of ours
Now just a pile of broken jars
Serenading the paint chips and charred spars
Of the human spirit.
Our hotel is ringed with bomb-tails
And inert Browning machine guns from distant days
It‟s all the rage in décor.
The markets of carcass thrive because
There is no refrigeration to speak of:
Power fails them here, except from 5 to 11
When coincidentally, the ...
April begins as a joke in a house of children:
A surprise, a word, a laugh if we‟re lucky.
There are still bills and taxes and poems ahead, at least in America.
With a sabaidee we say hello to a new year,
La kawn to yesterday and the many mornings before.
The flowers begin to bloom, the rain and wind are welcome.
There are so many places to go these days,