(I Got That) Cu Chi Tunnel Complex
Outside Saigon, January, 2006
scuttled leaves. Breathe –
flash-bang / drop
in womb-wet dark.
Dink ghosts nest
or flit. They forget no
raw scent & flap at
tiger-piss sweat icing your spine.
Move. Strip. Tape your cock
into viper, millipede, into dew & dust,
into the withered, lacquered tit
of this last low night you must evolve
into : Because, napalm / star-
cluster. Because the map
on your fused, fermented stillborn
leads only to opium coils.
Over 200 fist-
gouged clicks of rotting air & fanged dark
will reduce you to
birthed under the river
that never branches, from whose mouth
you’ll get cut your next
set of orders.
Monkey crawl. Slither.
Listen for screams.
The Ghost Choir Sings:
quick-kill, toe-poppers, sappers / bouncing bettys, tangle foot, rock ‘n roll, ambush /
H&I, arty, arc light, fox- / hole, tripflare, claymore, frags / di-di, grenades / zippo party, click /
leeches, skeetas, search & destroy / LZ kill zone, Charlie / every swingin’ dick
James Young drained the lake in Blue Lake.
Published On: October 18, 2012
Permanent Location: http://www.forgetmagazine.com/1210cc.htm