woostify domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home/latestwordpress/lonestar.a1professionals.net_public_html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6131Poetry excerpt from Thomas V. Nguyen, Texas Review Press<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Excerpt from <\/span><\/span>Permutations of a Self: Poems<\/span><\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/a> (Texas Review Press) by Thomas V. Nguyen<\/strong><\/a>; copyright 2019 by Thomas V. Nguyen; used with permission.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Lineage<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n I. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Here is a gravel road, Vi\u1ec7t Nam. Here are patches of tropic <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n grass that line the road, & within them leaves that rattle <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n like saltshakers. Here is your home, fences of bamboo tied together<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n in black arches, & above them roofs of damp thatch that drip<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n to the sleeping bodies below. Here are doors so blood-warm you can see handprints, the air\u2019s breath <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n a hollowed white.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n II. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Children in a swarm. Rickshaws drop like fly\u2019s eggs, <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n their drivers resting in a sweat-smoked ease. Outside, the <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n churchyard <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n sycamores howl, & inside, you hold tight onto your sister\u2019s hand, <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n pray one day to be on the other side of the Pacific, <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n in America, your body bowed like a bowstring. Overhead, <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n God throws stars like knives. Finches glisten in & out of moonlight.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n III. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n We kneel in pews together every Sunday in Houston <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n suburbia. You count dreams like feathers plucked <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n from quail\u2019s underbelly. I count fluorescent lights on the ceiling <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n & ask myself how much darker the room would be with <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n