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Poem

Sometimes the Window is International Beer can on rooftop, restaurant garbage bins, sexy woman on billboard with petrodollar veins, whilst the homeless dig deep into Gaza for scraps; desert storms imminent. Inside my room is a goldfish, facing the bent differential of glass bowl and world, but I can reach for a lichee fruit in the South China monsoon, and kiss my wife as she stands on the riverbank of the Pearl. Here great comforts are sought and they never arrive. Instead, pitch battles are fought, just to own these rooms. Wake up, friends, let us open our hearts instead. Koon Woon

The Chinese Mafia

Friday, August 8, 2025 The Chinese Mafia They are surnamed "Ma." They engaged in rape, murder, plunder, but they offer "protection." Money is their ultimate aim. They may smile and shake hands and pat you on the back, all the while coveting your wallet. Once they stripped you of everything, they offer to lend you money. The next game is activated. While you gamble and whore around, they shark you to death!!!

Your view of "Poet"

What makes a poet? Can you, in a paragraph or two, state what you think are the primary qualifications to be a "poet?" Send email to koonwoon@gmail.com with the subject "Poet." Thank you and we will give you the consensus.