writing poetry
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The game plan
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≻: The game planIf I do find love for the bawling pebble I pushed out from my body,I will smile with the readiness…
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The inheritance of love
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≻: The inheritance of loveHeight is genetic, much like the cusps of our earsOr tongue-rolling or blood type. The clench andSob of heart diseases,…
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I do not know what her anger looks like
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≻: I do not know what her anger looks likeWe choose what we do not see and I turnedAway when she raised her voice, sharp andOpen-palmed like a strike.…
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Since joining the army I have stopped dreaming
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≻: Since joining the army I have stopped dreamingSleep is disappearing into the blackMouth of a gasping carp. Even the anxiousMind stops jittering at some point, out ofSteam…
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We trampled in the garden and left a trail of mourning roses. Do you now feel guilty?
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≻: We trampled in the garden and left a trail of mourning roses. Do you now feel guilty?Again, Adam and Eve in the biblical garden and theLonely Apple tree, groped by an uninspired poet or an“Indie artsy” maker…
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This sadness hurts my arms
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≻: This sadness hurts my armsToo soon, we were rushed out of this parting with hurried words And food and cheer. There was no time…
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