Friday, January 17, 2014

a quick prayer.


“Kintsugi”

You found how to fill like gold to hold
together the cracks of my broken body,
an art form that requires destruction
of the formal self
followed by the acceptance of others
in order to create
completion.

Now in the land of
whites of their eyes
I hope I translate well.
For even though Asian pastures that
we’ve never touched
can pin us with exactness,
in farmhouse we have made our home,
and I have set my vase upon hope.  

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Now That You're Not Looking







My love for you is hidden in
every shirt you own,
every movement of your lips.
Now I know what you sound like when you’re angry.
Now I am looking straight at you,
your smell isn’t sticking.  
Show me my place
                               carefully.

Here, I won’t touch you. 
But the glass is already shattered,
so let us not sigh over it.

My favorite smells are covered
with sunlight. 
What do you taste like?
I could still be yours for 2 hours.
wait.

And we climbed a mountain,
lied under night’s blanket.
I need to ask you,
will your chest be warm again?

you're dear to me.

Shall we get intimate again?









I think so, I think so.

Monday, November 11, 2013

technology is wrong


In another life, I think I would have seduced Johnny Depp. I think I would’ve been a rock star, The Tubes world tour. Holy shit, I would have been friends with Kevin Bacon. I wouldn’t have known you.  I wouldn’t have told you, with my eyes, why we must stay on earth. Erase it all. Is that what you want?  I want to know the new you, but the new you does not want to know me. What a shame. I forgive you, just like you have taught me. 
And I looked for that answer in everyone. In the movies, music, eyes of strangers, words, quotes, books, everything. But, I have yet to look for the answer in myself. What is the solution? The solution, above all, is to forgive. He doesn’t love you? Forgive. You messed up? Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. And through all this forgiveness, love will be found. But do not mistake love for images. Love is not a picture, nor a word, nor a set of rules. Love is, at least what I have found and believe it to be, seeing yourself in another and recognizing the parts of them that are not you by adapting them. I thought that was the message of Fahrenheit 451, with the mirror factory and all. Not so we can see ourselves, but so others can see themselves in us. I used to think writing is what made people immortal. That only the writers would live forever. But I was wrong. What makes people immortal is loving each other. We can all be immortal. We can hide ourselves in one another. 

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Thursday, July 18, 2013

little confusions

what hurts and what is right?
                  you are here, fully equipped
                  with fireplace and candles.
At night, I try to make my mattress full
with your presence by
tossing and turning and filling it with sea water.
I try to pull real, sophisticated imagery out of your lips
but, we prepare breakfast in a different set of circumstances.
Before this, my room is bright and you, in turn, are glowing with us.
I want to know what you think as you send me to space.
The moon, vases breaking.
Leave your mark on my neck
and other places.