POETRY
This is not a secret
I call it a mercy— my buried pretense, my unspoken lie, but a guilty conscience is a gunshot wound— it never really heals. It’s not a secret if the truth would break her, so I let the bullet lodge inside my ribs, rusting– latent, lethal, it waits. It’s not a ...
Thirst drinking saltwater
It begins with the word, of the mouth that shaped it, the breath that cups it, and the body that makes it I was a pile of flesh that refreshes itself every 10 years goes on living, building a dam, for the rain that beats my body all night on ...
Oraphim
The sun bursts from displacement – Entropy begins. Allow it. Rings of rings of of rings of of rings of of eyes ablaze; interlocking. Thousands of pupils on an ever-spinning carousel, blessed with voluntary cataracts that hit only when they look into my own; (what is about to ...
Do you hear that?
Our words reverberate,But I can’t remember what was said.Four years passed us by –Now as I walk past the same buildings,See the spots where we lingered,The trees are growing older, but the food trucks are the same. I hear a faint whisper,Like music in my ears.When we talked of nothing,It ...
Homeward bound (a Glosa)
The familiar voice that bids mego to an unknown mountainpierces my heart but stays the knifein a trembling hand.The deed’s undone,yet the unspeakable lingers —Excerpt of Estrangement, James L. Crenshaw And from on high, I feel it.A pitch that rends my eardrumsChafes me raw, until the silence renders me whole ...
Under trees
solitude among giantshow it feelsto know that i inhale their exhalationsand that they do the samethat as we both respiratewe are conspiringconnecting anthropic and organic crest it’s a strange homea mystical divideroots to canopyseparating landscapes ofurban and ruralthe planes of my mindfinally at rest every moment under trees,every breath,preciousalthough infinitesimal.smaller ...
Milk comes when the bell rings
The lives of 83 Robinson St.
Dear Aurora
My child, I blessed you with beauty...
Approaching the situation with misinformed caution
Want,desire,yearning,pining, craving,weight… waiting.The sickness,aching,longing.Whatever the word may be to describe the hot burning sensation that pools in your gut and spreads through your body like wildfire.Each torch you dropped did not snuff out, the amber still burns blue. You stuff and stuff and stuff to no surprise, you remain unsatisfied.The ...
The Bach-bowel movement: no. 2 in A minor
When melancholy strikes,and my laundry piles up,a 13-year-old bloodhoundthe size of two American footballsmaterialises between the layers of rough jeans, synthetic wools,and a couple freshly washed pairs of thongs. Here he slobbers.Profusely.Heaving in heavy distress,as if to bring to my attention the gravest offence of my existence –that he has ...