Category: Poetry
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Bruise
I used to bruise easily, anything minor, from habitual toe stubs to accidental elbow nudges. I don’t bruise too much anymore, perhaps my body has gotten stronger, able to withstand the occasional knock and the recurrent nudges. It’s the unfamiliarity with space, its corners jutting when I hadn’t been aware, or fully aware, perhaps to…
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Growing on the theme of trees
Growing, outgrowing the cocoon of what once was, emerging and releasing myself from my crutches, standing on two firm feet in the sand, not drawing lines between things or attempting to, but letting them be. I’ve been watching the seasons change from darkness to light, and sometimes back again through the hours, and I would…
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How Can I Describe the Touch of a Flower
How to describe the touch of a flower, its fabric a satin to be truly felt, a snapdragon in waiting, yellow and green and a beautiful seduction capturing. The rounded edges of a feeling, corners of time passed, slightly turning that keep you alive, the dog-eared pages that get musty with coffee stains and page turns. Underlinings…
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the lightness of things
There’s a melancholic light, a nostalgic pale yellow that hovers on the other side of the street. Two windows between this other life and mine. A lingering in between, a distance and a closeness.I remember the same feeling, but it was different then. It was a feeling of being so in love that everything else…
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On the Occasion
On the occasion I think of water Blue triptychs and salmon lake fishingStrewn across pavements their glowing traces of movement in silver And I pick them up by their delicate hard shells Placing them onto the grassMaybe it is easier to look down whileSunny stares into the sky mistaking suns for moonsFlower and strawberry moons…
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Object Petit A
Lack lock luck Lost Un autre vie The unattainable impossible Just as Hoy writes the “cruel optimism”But perhaps it is not so cruel as it is far away A yearning can be real even when it’s rainingSmall everything, a petite morte, a petit ami A desire to be close, to enmesh and entangle with another…
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A word on punctuation
Punctuation feels frustrating like scripting for a dinner where the preparation becomes more anxiety-swollen than the event itself. For I don’t know how periods work anymore and I’d rather bleed my thoughts over into strung out syntaxes that border a stream than a dead end. Why do I need to tell you how to read…
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Sweetly delight
Early grey mornings steeped in mist and celebrating the victories steering away from “soft” and “small” and “untouched”. And ditching the cloaked maybes and perhaps’ with actual sentence starters to breed a confidence that feels unbridled so I look up to the sun screeching signs and mock a sibilance that I desperately want to write…
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A Ballad to Verandas
Something about the shade, or the way they hover gently over the street stretching curiously on a diagonal slope where a four pm Saturday stumble through stained streets with memories ebbing where lives crossed momentarily and paused didn’t stop the sun from setting on a red vintage car where a man opened up the boot…
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flower moon
Tonight is the flower moon The one promising rebirth and re-blooming even blossoming The one we smiled over The one that meant something then The 25th May in 2021 was the Super Flower Blood Moon Tonight it is just the flower moon Looming softly in the sky Peering in its light Pacing higher into the…
when the seasons change 