not every thing is this deep

backlash slap of

every comment

purple brutish

I’m content

sometimes

s e l e ct e d f o r t h e m a no r h o us e c h a p b o o k s e r i e s n g o c d o a n f o r n o t s o m u c h t h e l o v e o f w e a t h e r

f o r n o t s o m u c h t h e l o v e o f w e a t h e r

a n e d i t o r s ’ s e l e c t i o n

f o r t h e m a n o r h o u s e c h a p b o o k s e r i e s

f o r n o t s o m u c h t h e l o v e o f w e a t h e r

n g o c d o a n

a m a n o r h o u s e m o n o g r a p h | n y & s d 2 0 1 4

9

you are country like me

when rain stitches

the sky

atmosphere’s proroguing

if soggy flowers of Autumn de-

cline Spring’s pollinating

revolvers

pink yellow

and purple pink

redder

I admit no joy

in pigmentations, sidled-

walk pavement in rain

worm-

halves

10

squirrels race fence

birdfeeder, and pollen

spores accumulate on grass

there

we are like blue columbine

bursts

as us on the lawn is

evenings

see fireflies

11

it is April, so I always get what I want

stable coaches, riding

loads

peter

gilbert fills a hole exposes

a calf

(seed-

potatoes,

perihelia posies

and cockatoo on fence

promised a man)

peaches keep crying

the crow’s waiting

to hide things that

doesn’t

what is to need secrets-

12

walk that dirt

it is dusk already

the rabbits ride

the horizon

wild they are

to knife

lay your head

duellum

a wailing-some

rent is retch

13

you’ve seen the sun towers of glimmering light

picture

your levity bareness whitens the back- ends

the other people they go by— (no scrutiny)

they are strange to you make sense your disrobing consent

you know

these blossom trees are swept

what do you remember—

it’s a day like any other do cry

14

theatre

there are fruit trees

and

marble slabs

uniform

not every thing is this deep

backlash slap of

every comment

purple brutish

I’m content

sometimes

in the morning

I peel hardboiled

eggs

in sink water steams

and berry

this frustration

I wish that I knew

figure

as if—

pushing you off the bridge

not by accident

this is us walking in the dark.

15

in the beginning it’s free

you don’t care enough

our exuberance, a dream of LA

and

flown rapier lines on upper lips

there are stars on your ceiling

or do I see stars

at the end of the night a song is still

playing

—I’ve forgotten

what I was doing

16

catch

I

flushes

and

everything falls

the world’s broken

or we are not there

I am not lief,

you, holdness

wave

this way—

wake up to see the sky

bunch of balloons

fly

before telephone lines

17

blued from gun

1.

Ruby

look twice at the bull’s eye

it is robbery, nameless smile

that’s not for you

say, you’re the cowgirl!

volcano rain

on your face

and I want a last ride

through the prairies with you

18

2.

ghost towns

have no ghost

oily vestige

loudmouth

anger

those confuse me

point, shoot

set down my

gun

sheriff ’s

stared!

19

3.

over

due

the undertow runs

sour rum

lie to the dogs

I ace deny you

don’t

blink!

20

fallacies

it is so good my guy

planks

and

the other side measures

inches for beat

as our fingers

pride happy tying

rue

bent and mold back

-ward

rub me wrong wayward

I tie you down

21

sienna

her lipstick

trace her

mascara trouncing cigarette ash

she is

girl

awestruck

black, cocktails

repartee

variance/

iwantyou four knots

—going vermouth

joie slip

down

size

singular

22

august rain

the longevity in summer days

the time of bearing

it’s mine,

love

that yellows

the decaying

leaves drafted on wind-

shield

by watermark

light blanches

dust in air

silence between

radio songs

23

porcelain right

my Russian princess

tells of her favorite pup

view the wind

bellying the window

curtains

bare twigs

trees

backlit sunset

orange, red

and wax

cinders

its breath of flowery

sure, forlorn

dahlias

cinnamon

sticks

the ballroom’s bareness

24

because our concern of time

you turn to say

—where would you go

25

what you do to me

I cannot

sleep sideways

that my arms are numb

underneath

love

you have the whole constellation on your back

affliction of words

like fuck and more

obscene wound

forgive me

when the nights

of tremors, ache

no stars

stop you love

glimpses of faith

when the blinds do come down

love forbears

of faith all you

26

forgive me

again, again

what do you do to me

but love

27

what is

twin in sky, spindle twinges

that radiate breast from breast. eerie

freezes under me

the tempest mood drops at night

below

the bed a weapon

I’m ready to beat

dead

28

perennial seesaw

my life runs lengthy

the soothsayer’s presage

but I rank

pinball tremors

and replay

consternations

that I do not know

I face you

—debalancing me

as roundabouts

coursing our childlike

speak

on fairgrounds

where we have found the sky

flint and stormed out shores

impassionedly

navigated

heart’s cyclone

whaling an eye

lost me

29

waning

The blemishes of half lies

We pulled on the blindfold

and thought to take

baby steps

Did we grow

cold and worn

Those tattered shoes shoveled

until stumbled us.

30

few

among others—

our world our place

do not enter—

the door is shut

window opened to bend

the air outside it snows

the ice follows irritant

imitative to voices

they do not penetrate

we find ourselves warm

who have known this

paradise are not

31

november poem

Winter has rudely arrived

the cider tastes sour

it does not warm me

always a draft from somewhere

the bedroom is a Russian battlefield

I have hands of a lifeless person

I cannot touch

you jumping

nights to phantasms

& daylight’s cold comfort no expansion

as we go

we march on frozen

plateaus

bundled up

double bind & cannot turn

to hold each other

lost in parkas

32

waxing

The sky is sonnet white

The landscape engulfs us

in its grief

We feel ocean in tunnels

of mountain snow

The distance from where we were

to now is ever.

Manor House, LLCNew York, San Diegohttp://manorhouse.co

Copyright © 2014 by Ngoc DoanAll rights reserved

Frontispiece by Kerry Hyatt: “Moons,” watercolor on arches, 2009. Designed by James Meetze. Covers printed by Daniel Heffernan at Clove St. Press, signatures printed in the United States, and hand sewn in an edition of 250. Typeset in Mercury.

This is ________ of 250.

First Edition, 2014ISBN: 978-0-9859095-4-3

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Different versions of some of these poems have appeared in

Conjunctions Magazine.

The title, “Blued from Gun,” is an adaptation of the Jesus and

Mary Chain’s song, “Blues from a Gun.”

m a n o r h o u s e m o n o g r a p h s

1. Dark Art by James Meetze, 2013

2. In The Air by Peter Gizzi / Richard Kraft, 2013

3. For Not So Much the Love of Weather by Ngoc Doan, 2014

not every thing is this deep

backlash slap of

every comment

purple brutish

I’m content

sometimes

s e l e ct e d f o r t h e m a no r h o us e c h a p b o o k s e r i e s n g o c d o a n f o r n o t s o m u c h t h e l o v e o f w e a t h e r