Light but firm
was the kiss of snow the sky gave
the dotted tops of all the brown and green.
Perhaps light firmness is seen instead of felt,
for my lips cannot recall receiving such a one.
What has impressed
upon these rose petals?
Other things-Read More »
Sweet girl, eyes shining, endlessly dying
for attention she knows I will give-
what she shows with her lips
that she wants: Soft smile, chestRead More »
Enamored folks in
the breeze stay silent. This sun
warms but cannot burn.
Hopes are heavy. That’s why we say that we get them up.
And I know that it seems easy,
but adrenaline rises in a rush
to transfer energy and perpetuate movement
when you’re faced with something grand enough
to be worth lifting hopes.Read More »
I don’t walk around in euphoric affection-
I know I love my body because I love to know
my body.
Why it’s dry and when it bleeds, and if the seizures are going to stop,
what it likes to regulate towards.
My body knows what it’s doing; It has desires and needs.
I’ve faith in its imploring eyes, and it trusts me to oblige.
This is what I love most:Read More »
1.
He smiles, ‘Not you—
all the other girls who think your thoughts, differently,’
when his joke responds to me,
my thoughts, my way.
Almost like he was
not listening
or like his wounds are so big that he’s
a little trigger-happy,
prone to lash out–
to think his thoughts, differently.
Or, like he is lying to me.
Reciting the Good
Guy Creed
that he never believed.
2.
I smile, ‘Of course,’ with the slow release of lips.
The bitter
aftertaste of important words swallowed.
3.
He breathily laughs,
puts his hand up to pacify.
My lips form a smile, like a
dog playing dead.
4.
Maybe if you touch my hand,
my hand will have touched yours
as though saying it accepts the apology
you don’t make.
5.
He joys his jokes
that tinkle like rebukes,
and I sit down,
nod a smile—
well-trained.
6.
But my eyebrows flash knowingly,
for a tiger provoked
decides.
Maybe walks inside.
She patronizes the cage.
7.
Urgent words wash down
so easily
chased by the lies in which we were raised.
8.
When I become a butterfly, I fly into outer space,
and then out of it through one chip
in a snow globe of glass.
From snow, some strong leaves
would not fall. For new buds though,
the strongest will leap.
I know about happiness; we’ve met.
We just don’t get alone time—
anxiety’s name is , but. I don’t do simple sentences.
I know anxiety so well that I don’t have to see its face—
no matter how fast I spin, it’s always a hair’s breadth from my sight.
But I know it’s there. It breathes down the right side of my neck.
It’s got a chokehold. And trust me—when you’re that intimate with somebody else,Read More »
I look to the sky, seeing nitrogen, oxygen,
argon, water, and light.
“The biggest white mass,” you ask,
“What do you see it as?”
To me, it seems a pirate ship.
To you, it seems a house.
We have on our hands: a person,
another,
a difference, and each of these three
is pretty.
But you look to the sky, seeing rock, clay,Read More »
If you had asked the reason, I’d have said,
“Why, because!” for I did not know, but I was not
wrong. Surely the black sky with the city lights
in the grey towers were there, calling to me.
Where? Why, in Japan! I knew becauseRead More »
Alphabet Ravine 