Haiku
1
The flowers have bloomed
and the locusts devour
any sign of life.
2
Oily dressing with
the pit-marked spinach leaves on
my baby-blue plate.
3
A doe has died on
the searing blacktop. It still
continues to smile.
4
My gaze, downward, with
all the plastic faces here;
coffee stains shirt brown.
5
Break up in tiny
distinct pieces. Now, your heart
is not the same.
6
Please and...
Pinakbet
A dish I watched my grandma cook with
zest. I was six or seven.
Bitter gourd because I’m diabetic, my
yearns for sweets squash-yellow.
Canola oil sizzles, the air adorned with garlic
expressions, wafts of red onion.
Drizzles of black pepper, and I
wonder if this spice will let me live longer.
Eggplant will tell me if...
The Widow’s Nights
“Days are not so bad.
My volunteer work.
Lunch with friends.
Gardening.
All of these fill the daytime hours.
But it is the nights—
they are so long, so very long.”
I don’t know how to respond.
We smile at each other in
a moment of silence.
Then, she adds, “If you have
any alterations you need done,
bring...
the authenticity of my butt
i now hear that
the authenticity of my butt
is in question
who are these doubters, these trolls
naysaying, behind anonymity
well, i stand here today
and tell you my butt is authentic
unadultered, genuine american male ass
this is not some cheap foreign knock off
no booty magic here, no $5000 enhancements
no fat...
PLAYMATE
As kids, you and I
Loved red paper lanterns
And exquisite Japanese dolls.
In winters, we decorated
Our flower vases
With chrysanthemums the color
Of tiny pink cakes.
In summers our fathers
Took us to drink
Green mango sorbet
At the same quaint little joint.
Springs and autumns were
The times for new clothes
During festivals as even trees
Turned fashion-conscious
And flaunted their...
from DARKLING (1)
The sea is one nocturnal emphasis:
I speak to you across distances like a code
in war. The mothers of the universe are your whores.
I am your daughter, and you are roses in bloom.
I know this because I was an empty blossom
holding your tongue in eclipse. Science doesn’t attempt.
I...
The Touch
Last night I woke up
to a dream. Foam in the sea
trying to catch time
in myriad forms;
my limbs drenched in waves
my hands outstretched.
A dream touching
the timeless
Alone
The street lights greet me in benevolence
when I look at the night
with a watchman’s eye.
Traffic pauses to think
how busy the road is,
and I become...
GALLERIES IN THE NIGHT
Abandoned by all kindly lights
To gnash their teeth
In penumbras of their own making,
What half-bitten talk
Peoples the dark galleries
Between masterpiece and masterpiece,
Restrained from lawless combat
By gilt-edged police
Or the garth of mortar?
The greatest allegories of art
Are secret journals kept
By that gossip Night
Whom no historian of art consults
As they...
Birds
Every star has a crack
This is how the flash
releases the radiance
of living things
To make sense of this
is to know that
a bird’s migration is
the stars magnetic draw
the conveyor from North
to South and back again.
This generates a bright effect
on our lives
because birds are a testament
to the lightness of innocence
to the graceful...
Cool Masculine
Hair careless tangled; dirt bristling on dried skin.
I'll be clean, I'll be beautiful again,
a cool, cruel image for someone.
I press the glass against my cheek,
feel the condensation disappear into natural fires.
I'm James Dean in the photos, the film,
despite all my disabilities...
Let me be him for you:
I've got that...
Sanctification
The pimples on my face
seem to have an identity
of their own.
As if, those are my sins
penalized to be worn.
However, they make me look
a graceful lesser mortal.
Thankfully unattractive
like Sycorax.
A rose infested by fungi.
Oddly, they seek a lot of attention:
Hormonal imbalance? A digestive disorder?
A passion pimple! A dispassionate cycle?
Innumerable diagnosis followed...
BLOOD
1
I see the blood
in hands of others
faces of others
smeared like fog
or smog,
I lift myself from clouds
a thin line wavers
as I walk into the existence
of blood
2
I ask questions
the voice is silent
asks questions
can you rape an eight
year old, six months
the voice is silent
of course, only at
the cost of blood
3
I saw a...