de la heaven

Was lost in de la heaven

Some architecture rounds out no more

I have met my match

All girls hustled into the capsule hotel

programmed as you've gotta move

   gotta go

      gotta go!

as all my boys raise hell

Our underground thang glows

what causes this effect, I don't know

I step ever forward in relation to

yr                                   dress.

    cosmic body in a sun

I've since written to you

last night I dreamt I wrote

a breathtaking letter

in which I elaborated on my actions   the meanings

    and then articulating, in Olsonesque fashion

        clearly my thoughts of you and

    I ran the words through my lobes

   a few times for good measure, thought, Yes.

          will certainly draft this in the

                        morning, pronto!

       This poem is what became of it.

         and the reluctance on my part

       to see you a third time

           settled in

Tip Brother Duck

for another swell cut

and two ladies

who wash,

scratching massage

two bucks

Cantonese banter

Chinese drama

on the screen

another wounded

official and his


w/ none at ease


    wash wash

colder water on my knees,

a girl further on in

a red cap

I write of her

does she of me?


you're a poet you're a locomotive

out of fashion like fig.1

a poet is a locomotive is a galaxy

one that looks like ours to someone living

in another galaxy

now the radiance of yourself you call it nothing

perhaps maybe call it the dinner you made

of which you were so proud,

call it luminosity, which is one factor.

the other being how distant you are from me.

a poet'll work out the luminosity and the distance

to figure out exactly how bright you are.

conversely, if you knew the luminosity of other poets

in the galaxy (to keep it simple)

you can work out their distance from you

by measuring their apparent brightness


our vet thinks two to three kilos

can sit inside mariah's uterus, okay?

so don't fuck around.

And now? One's available without one.

Discover light & fit Greece

in the cup of Dannon.

This is your party.

Party City ad came on,

didn't you used to work there baby?

Oh, no, that was Party Stop,

like a small town version

of Party City. You used to draw snowmen

on the windows during the winter.

How math thematic.

It isn't likely that Nelly has

never had cereal before,

nor has ever seen a honey wand.

easy, that's a quick release, champ.

it's alright, they're here about mariah

Was she stolen for cash? Poor city horse.

How many other people in this world right now

are waiting on test results?

How do I feel about mariah?

Who else from your firm did you see that night?

Those you've just met, now leaving?

like the life of that horse?

she was a stable buddy's buddy.

they used her body

to smuggle drugs.

Quyen H. Nghiem is from Philadelphia. He loves to nuzzle light beams and write delicious poems on his rooftop. More of his work can be found at &

Images by Elfie Hintington courtesy of the L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah.

Copyright © 2016, Otis Nebula Press. All rights reserved.