other people see
plain old brown eyes
but I see galaxies

Caught by showers in the wild
We hide beneath a tree
The snake is in your eyes
And the apple is my lips

* *

Eden’s’ reach
Translucent touch
Fingers trickle down
I watch the glow
Into your irises
I catch the flow
At the corners of your mouth

* *

Translucent fingers’ touch
Trickles down your face
Slowly close your eyes
And every drop is me

Flood is rushing down
The trenches of my palm
Falling into view
And every drop is you

sometimes you enter the maw of the beast;
severed heads lie around still watching,
and you march forth into the bowels of hell
fighting off fears, horrors and demons
own and foreign
for the ultimate prize
taking home the devil

Drunk on liquor metaphors
High and falling fast
No direction in the clouds
Why does winning feel like losing
Why does your image burn
So extraordinarily
On the inside of a skull box
I am tossed away from answers
I’m a coin in the fingers of the sun
The last hundred flips were
Unsatisfactory
The white puffy scarves
Only swirl into themselves
Sympathetic, yet,
Not bothering to reach out
Because
They know they aren’t strong enough
To catch me
Or break the fall
But my lips are wings
Stretching into flight

Like footprints paved in
the snow in the driveway coat-
ed by fresh blankets
of white descending snow flakes
in the morning, I know they

are still there. Like the
trees bright with vibrant leaves fall-
en by winter and
flowers kissed by butterflies
replaced with dull grass, I know

they still bloomed there. Like
unexpected, unprotect-
ed surprises grow;
I will never forget the
sensation of cold gel on

my still flat tummy
or the clasp around my pan-
creas, six more weeks
of winter, it rains ******
red. Saturday. Life. Gone but
                                              
                                             I know. I remember.
                                             This was supposed to be a
                                             tanka but I have
                                             never been good at obey-
                                             ing the rules. I have not been
                                             good with losing you.
                                             Intentional, counting syll-
                                             ables, words stuck in
                                             Saturday, I touch my bel-
                                             ly, remembering you exist-
                                                                                         ed here.

The leaves can't promise
Autumn that they won't change
or the trees when they'll return by Spring...

When you come back,
please kiss me like the bees do
the roses in the summer,
gently stroke my face
like snowflakes in mid-winter...

Cover me like the raindrops do
in the middle of droughts
that brings the hues of rainbows,
dark skies and dull grey clouds,
and the confused winds that don't know
whether to blow left or right...

I could have sworn I heard
your name brought in by the breeze,
whispered amongst the plants and branches,
passed along to the worms and slugs,
chirped to the birds and fireflies,
landing to the cats and dogs,
and finally, to me, that
this time will be different...

The caterpillar can't promise
Autumn that they won't change
or who they'll be by Spring.



I guess I'll try again next season...

the thing about sadness is
it’s like a thick rain cloud
clogged inside your throat
blocking your breath,
your words,
even your screams.
you want to melt it,
get rid of it,
but it becomes bigger and bigger
choking you further and further.

but the thing about sadness is
when you finally surrender and bask
on its harsh downpour,
its painful drops
will help you grow,
will help you rise,
will help you heal, until
the suffocating cloud
finally bowed, finally bowed.

and the thing about sadness
being a dark rain cloud is it’s
living in a fading permanence.
it will pass.
it will fade.

but you, you are the sometimes defeated
yet always fighting sun.
you will rise again and again,
until no cloud of pain remains.
until no cloud of pain remains.