the time of ramen

Swirling pennants raised in celebrations no one understands.
Patterned silks embroidered with elegant nonsense,
characters from an uninvented language.
Signifying without meaning,
distinction without difference,
heralds of cancer or cure,
signals of madness advancing and retreating,
finding fisherman on the rocks,
well-intentioned speakers out of their depths.
Maybe the world is growing weary of something
of struggle, of us, the way even the waves
only groan against a too-firm shoreline,
sighing like a middle-aged lover left before dawn
or a virgin too far past his prime.
Maybe time is gathering itself for a special event,
maybe he spent his allowance early and we are in
the time of ramen noodles and broadcast TV.


  • Dael commented on 2012/01/29

    I made ramen for myself only days ago. I set filtered water to boil. I rooted through the creaking vegetables for a sign, and found a fine green chayote and a slightly wrinkly tomatillo. The lemon-pepper-tofu skewers needed using, and the toasted sesame oil had no plans for the evening.
    The message is that even the lowest of things can be improved with a little attention. (The moral is there is no moral. It’s immoral. I ate it all and didn’t share.) My advice is, pull off your capslock key and throw it across the room. I did and now I am famous.

  • Dael commented on 2012/01/29

    Submit buttons always give me pause. Can you get into your website code and make the button say “Include”?

    Either that or take it out the other side and make it say “SUBMIT TO ME, WHELP!”

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