Golden Poems

Some Of Us Lean

some of us lean
on this war hard,
lean on it like the outcome
will determine something
closer to the course
for the living
rather than
for all this dying

some of us lean
into the back of this
war casually,
like lounging in
a wicker chair
cushioned for
the blind

for all the time we lean
into this
we will find
no comfort,
for all the time we lean
into our solution
the problem will find a way
to elude us
____________________________

In Dimly Lit Spaces

in dimly lit spaces, the piano
is a train whistling unevenly
across a sloping stage blowing

up, up, and up the crinkling
wings of beethoven
and bartók – the only two
choices left
within these numb
fingers when drowning
in an endless pit of freshly
polished apples. in dimly
lit spaces, the piano is a train
whistling is a wound bleeding
is a cast iron radiator tiptoeing
nearest the asylum of
a north-facing brick wall

with her rusty skirt grazing
at minor third intervals
across all that city snow
____________________________

I Prefer To Remain

i prefer to remain
untrained, free to
shuffle around these
memories like they
were pieces of an
unsolvable puzzle
with no links
no blueprints
no reason not to
have a handful of
industrial scissors
all sharpened
on a stone crowded
with dreams
____________________________

Not Understanding Death

not understanding death
in the midst of a return
to Spring and daylight saving
we tie a rope around our waists
anchored forwards
while slipping
backwards, one minute at a
time, trying to find where
we left you, hoping and resting
against steep stony passages
that you are not locked
treading the spaces between
unfelt milliseconds, cells caught
in the strands of unshakeable time
____________________________

Beneath The Shadow

beneath the shadow
of the manhattan bridge
then the brooklyn
we alternated strips of sky
and brick, tossing
train noises with a
seasoned wind
____________________________

Over Our Twin

over our twin
prosciutto and mozzarella
panini, we brushed off
the dusty book of questions
and looked into its
depths, leaning over
to toss one warm stone
into a familiar-looking page

we translated the deep-well
response from french
to english to music
and took with us
one note, still wet and
glistening in the new sun
____________________________

Peel Back

peel back
the layers
of this rotting
fruit, one
billion at a time,
and take another
look – young America,
it was only a matter
of time before
we lost
those words
of, by, and for,
led astray
by this greying
Congress
____________________________

What It Comes Down To Is

what it comes down to is
the time i spent not
sleeping is in preparation
for a time when i can
sleep like a child again
____________________________

You Know What I Am

you know what i am
going to say already –
part of not
thinking
about it
is thinking about it
fiercely. part of holding
it at arm's length is
not letting it slip.
part of
weeding
out sorrow is
unearthing
the source. part of
lying to yourself is
recognizing the truth.

you know what i am
going to say already –
part of not
thinking
about it
is thinking about it
fiercely
____________________________

Death Is A Double

death is a double-
acting tumbler
lock, and i am brass
still feeling
for the shape
of an eighteenth
century key.

life is forging me
into a perfect fit
____________________________

On Average, The Human

on average, the human
heart discards point
two megabytes of broken
data per second, leaving
a distinct taste of loss
in the air for sixteen
seconds just right after –
and should a lucky poet
be passing by, packing
a pair of powder-
free latex gloves and
the finest tweezers, he
or she may gingerly
pinch the fallen
fragments, take them
home to rinse and
hang-dry for a week,
before refashioning
them into something
useful to a beating
heart again
____________________________

After All That

after all that
burning
and settling
it is duty
to pick the
bones out of
your cooling
ashes and into
your new, marble
skin, feet first.

how were you
able to remain
so still, tickled
by more than
a dozen pairs
of slippery
chopsticks –
and after all these
years, i guess
now you
know, my dear
i have never learned
to hold them
correctly
____________________________

These Memories Rub

these memories rub
against each other
like marbles in a burlap
sack. you can leave
a hand inside to finger
the cool and seamless
illusion, but there
is no real comfort
nor grief
until you can bear
to pull one
out, to study
that embedded
Latticino core,
to explore with
intention
without swerving
____________________________

Hir Tsa Jin Shin Haw

hir tsa jin shin haw
"drink tea to be wide awake"

today, my mouth
is your mouth, my tongue
your tongue, and i drink

tea as bitter as the first
pot you brewed each morning
as dark as your new death

come, drink,
be wide awake
____________________________

No Matter Which Way

no matter which way
i look at it, there is
a crease consistent
with the weight of your
memory

in each new memory –

i am stepping off
the train, and the
platform curls,
losing its grip
on me.

i am opening my
mouth to speak,
and the sentence
dog-ears, and i
am undone.

i am looking
at the sky, and the sky
is rolling up its
corners, already finished
with me
____________________________

The Lily Magnolias

the lily magnolias
are breaking
open –

lit like candles
on heavy-laden
branches, extending
their well-timed
lanterns into the
darkness

lit like boats
caught on a
breeze, tearing
on the hook
of childhood
memories

lit like a search
party that will
return again
empty-handed

lit like the altar
for forty-nine days

lit like the thought of you
breaking, blossoming,
opening
into the face
of these tugging
magnolias
____________________________

Briefly Caught In My Window

briefly caught in my window

after the thunder
a shimmering calculus
pale petals sailing
____________________________

We Rounded The Corner

we rounded the corner
at sunset, struck
by the immediate
pleasure of a
garden of red
and yellow
marking flags
planted in the corner
of your lawn
with the boldness
of tulips
and the assertion
of home
improvements
____________________________

It Happens Daily

it happens daily
a full Manhattan eclipse
with a wounded twist
____________________________

March Winds

march winds
and unwinds herself
near the very
end, disentangling
her braids
from winter's wet
and wounded
branches
____________________________

We Build Bodies

we build bodies
to live in, structures
to last, and age
is a moving
target, engineered
to see us through
____________________________

At The Very Spot Where

at the very spot where
sky and earth meet to
duel it out before the
setting sun, there is a
free-standing
display case,
humming,
its curved glass wiped
down hourly
by the baker's
daughter, a jeweled
exhibition –
where children and
adults eagerly
press their fingers
into the cool, refrigerated
glass and point out the
precise solution
to the day's frustrations:
a glistening éclair
for an argument lost,
a delicate Dolce
alla Napoletana for
everything else
____________________________

On Not Living On Bread Alone

sitting across from you
on an unfettered sunday
morning, we are unpacking
our friendship with
knives and forks, unfolding
memories across our laps,
sipping on the immediate
future, mindfully chewing
over the present.

you should
know – from this
close, i have finally
uncovered some key
ingredients to your
laughter, a bit of
rosemary, something
caramelized, a smile
filled with figs and honey
____________________________

The City Leaks

the city leaks
into each rendition
of tonight's Chopin –
harsh horns cut
into a couple of
rests, tires trail
and brake
too closely again,
loose sirens lick
the eighth
notes down
to their stems –
i observe
every repeat,
in search of
an empty street
____________________________

The Sound

the sound
of snow repeatedly
pressed
like a panini, with toasted
tracks left in the wake
of succulent
steps –

the thought
of grandma
finally being able
to afford
a new set of
teeth
at seventy-eight –

the look
on the new barber's face
down in the
hole-in-the-wall
as he received
his one-hundred-percent
tip –

the bowl
of congee
waiting at the end
of the day, hot
with scallion
pearls and roasted
peanuts –

the magic
of you
stopping time on the train
tuesday morning
suspending the count-
down to tardiness
with a look
____________________________

Ninety-Nine Percent Of

ninety-nine percent of
looking
back
is to wipe the
dust from the way
you remembered it.
the greater the
distance, the more
everyone seems to
glitter. even the
worst of old
emotions spins in the
new breeze, briefly
catching the
sunlight like a shiny
pinwheel planted
in the garden
to frighten your
recollection
____________________________

Sadness Leaks Like

sadness leaks like
gravity, weighing
down even
the smallest
of things –
a wristwatch,
loose tea leaves,
a glittering
morning
____________________________

An Improvisational Rendezvous

an improvisational rendezvous
amidst October's deliberation
a trinket of glittering afternoon
____________________________

Before The Arresting

(for F.N., during taffy-pulling October)

before the arresting
winter, take the city
sharply between
your fingers, pull
and twist it, stretch
it into the light
until it takes on
the most
delicious
sheen, then
give it a hard
and chewy
bite
before folding
it into late
November
____________________________

For Each

for each
glutinous
morsel of
memory,
there is
a crushed
quality
to all that
warmth,
all this
longing
____________________________

Each Blossom Twisted

each blossom twisted
off for just our
pleasure protects
a fervent ecosystem
expertly gathering
data, pushing
boundaries,
instinctively
mapping out
the algorithm
for survival
____________________________

Dipped In Silver

dipped in silver
and gold, the city never
changes her perfume
____________________________

Even Monday Sometimes

even monday sometimes
lets slip a thing
of beauty –
slithering flurries chased
by fiery headlights, homeward
bound, across these
outer-borough dreams
____________________________

Ten Years

ten years
ten days
or ten minutes –
regret is regret
is someone sitting
in the corner mis-
understanding life
____________________________

As You Approach

as you approach
the intersection
between your
prime and childish
things, heaven
just appears
more often
out of nowhere
reaching out
____________________________

In The Place Between

in the place between
here
and there,
each minute
hugs the hours,
airbrushes the
microseconds,
and stitches the light
a little more
brilliantly
to hypnotize
the moment
____________________________

An Entire World

an entire world
can retreat
gracefully into
the contours of her
eyes while
the rest of
her face
registers
unconcern
____________________________

Part Of Embracing

part of embracing
a neighborhood
is seeing what
you have gained
and reminiscing
on what you have lost
____________________________

Mourning Is

mourning is
lowering yourself
into obscurity
and, along the
way, wedging
markers into
the sharpest
memories
secure enough
to withhold the
weight of
acceptance
when you are
ready to pull
yourself out
____________________________

On A Scale Between

on a scale between
a fire and a flame,
love sometimes
retreats like
a tumbleweed
of lit cigarette ash,
a slow moment of
fading to grey
____________________________

Groundhog

groundhog
or no groundhog,
early spring presents
itself – grilled, plated
with arugula,
a festival of Spargel
____________________________

A Plate Of Fresh

a plate of fresh
mozzarella
and heirloom
tomatoes – each
layer stacked full
of flavors to tell
____________________________

Hidden In A Mid

hidden in a mid-
day capriccio – almond,
a tragic flavor
____________________________

Scratch

scratch
beneath
the surface
and peel back each
luxurious
story – salted
or sweetened,
the city still
tastes
so familiar
____________________________

It Is A Kind

it is a kind
of barter system –
we take from the
earth what we
need when
we need, the earth
reclaims
what is due
when we
are due
____________________________

Sunday Petal Folds

Sunday petal folds
into a diamond, foiling
the afternoon rain
____________________________

Two Full Jujube

two full jujube
bowls –
black versus
white, each stone
an old yunzi
poem to polish
____________________________

On A Windswept

on a windswept
morning, life
pauses
to consider
its brevity
____________________________

I Repotted The Orchid

i repotted the orchid
this morning –
sixteen months
later, and i am
imploring that
it thrives, outlives
me – wet soil
sighs under
these fingernails
____________________________

We All Make A Living

we all make a living
somehow, tethered
to a lit screen, a new
building, a handful
of avenues, or a spot
in the park.
adolescence waits
on the corner, mouths
flapping as we chase
those dreams, slay
each other's dragons
____________________________

Youth Should Be

youth should be
made with ample
confidence, a
dash of salt, two
shakes of sugar,
a sprig of
summer,
and plenty of
time
____________________________

Wisdom Pauses, Weaves

wisdom pauses, weaves
a pattern toward the light
an organic structure
____________________________

Every Once

every once
in awhile, we
should be left
hanging,
to remind
us of our
weaknesses,
strengths, and
the fruit called
patience
often plucked
prematurely
____________________________

I Am Standing

i am standing
between
two parked
cars, hoping
the reflection
does not
give me away.
i am on Bleecker
again, and everything
is changing, so
why not us?
____________________________

The Day Threads

the day threads
a shiny
structure
between each
knotted happening,
adding to the
golden length
of an afternoon
well-cared for,
secured
by a multi-
color sunset
at the clasp
____________________________

Between Sunrise And

between sunrise and
sunset, each ripened
moment can be
squeezed so
lovingly – whether
it is the sweetest of
mangos or the
sourest of kumquats
____________________________

The Fondest Childhood

the fondest childhood
memories dangle
at the other end
of a string – vibrant,
shimmering, spicy,
just out of reach
____________________________

On The Other End

on the other end
of a high
heat index equation,
there is nothing like
a watermelon
mirage to help pull
your wits together
____________________________

In The Thirst

in the thirst
of time,
across a long
memory,
forgiveness
sometimes
sprouts
unattended –
a weed to be
knifed,
a wildflower
to be cared for
____________________________

Three Degrees Into

three degrees into
blue, synapses firing,
layered dreams unfurl
____________________________

At The Maple-Tapping Hour

at the maple-tapping
hour, when the whirligig
seedlings make their
late Spring descent,
between waking and
sleeping,
the aroma of
timelessness twirls
on fibrous wings
____________________________

Along The Route Of

along the route of
peppers, tomatoes,
and peaches,
the carnival of grilled
mangoes melts
over the tongue
and lingers
like a revelation,
unexpected –
like suddenly
floating
in Port-au-Prince,
and my father
smiling, letting go
____________________________

I Put On A Face

i put on a face
of August
sunsets, forced
to wait for
company –
the gradient
sky chisels
each deepening
hue like a hash
mark on the wall,
redistributing every
wayward second
____________________________

There Are Days When

there are days when
manhattan peels
away like a sparkle
sticker in search
of the dimmest
memory, when i
am all but ready to
be rewarded,
hoping
that nothing
as enchanting
as you affixes
____________________________

When Brooklyn Trains

when Brooklyn trains
his gaze on you,
you grow
suddenly old
from remembering
____________________________

You Can't Tell From The

you can't tell from the
looks of it –
but a path can
smell like warm
afternoons on
empty beaches
____________________________

In The Monument Of Youth

in the monument of
youth, there are links
to dreams that pull,
like sunlight to
seedlings, like
sky to bridges
____________________________

At The End Of The

at the end of the
day, Brooklyn steeps
like loose leaves,
still darker, not yet
bitter, waiting
to be sipped
____________________________

In A Matter Of Seven

in a matter of seven
seconds, the earth's
angular momentum
swings the sun
across the dance
floor, lets
go with a wink,
confident in
her return
____________________________

A Golden Afternoon

a golden afternoon
breaks off like
pumpkin bread –
brown sugar
sweet, walnut
toasted, a
suggested
surprise, and –
near the end,
a sort of
crumbling
of light
____________________________

There Ought

there ought
to be more
synapses
reminding us
to be joyous,
to mull over
tenderness,
to plunge
into love, to hold
contentment
a breath longer –
there ought
to be time
stretched out
for this,
suspended,
and even
then, still
a little more
____________________________

Some Afternoons Are Like

some afternoons are like
that – chiseled, golden-
ratioed – when the formula
for calculating the slope
of our inclinations
lies hidden
____________________________

In A Complicated

in a complicated
world, the brain learns
to process data
through shortcuts –
the three sustained
horns from a passing
truck summon
Mathis der Maler,
the lingering cologne
in the stairwell, two
lifetimes ago,
the lady in the park
with pigeons and
other stereotypes –
neurons will fire
in synchrony
to fill in the
superstitions
and fears
____________________________

We Missed The

we missed the
sunset over
the horizon by
one red light,
and the
reflection, dipped
in her signature
perfume, mocks us
____________________________

Sunday Honey

sunday honey
drizzles golden
across brooklyn –
winter in the city
never tasted
so redeeming
____________________________

Held For A

held for a
moment under
the scrutiny of the
sun, a chorus of
notes
glisten
as they
dive, flip their
tails, and
turn, all at once
like a school of
fish, extracting
a breath of
fresh air
____________________________

Life And Death

¿Quién vio ese mundo sólido,
quién batió con sus plumas
ese viento radiante
que en unos labios muere
dando vida a los hombres?

– Vicente Aleixandre

life and death
is a sudden
launching,
a leaving
behind, trailed
ever so
casually by
an afterimage
of plumes
lifting
or settling.
it's so hard
to tell – we
let go,
eventually,
the same way
____________________________

The Anatomy Of A Long

the anatomy of a long
weekend in winter
is dissected
under the intense
infrared lamp of the
sun, juxtaposed by
the cooling of the earth,
like warm skin
on stainless steel.
when we take apart
the microseconds
with pre-sterilized
forceps, we find
that the symptoms do
in fact correlate
with the disease –
we take our time,
catch ourselves on
walks, find more energy
in the mornings
to indulge and
dissect our words,
overlook
the extra seconds
____________________________

In This Day Or Two Of

in this day or two of
heavy winds, our eyes
are on the horizon, while
someone ties us
down to legislation,
acronyms, and words
like infringement,
theft, prosperity,
entrepreneurship.
innovation flexes
her arm and throws
a curve ball
____________________________

Regret Sits In The

regret sits in the
driveway, hangs from
the doorknob, catches
some sun on the
wardrobe, listens in
when someone uses
the word garbage.
on the other hand,
regret sits in the
car lot, hangs in
the department store,
catches some sun
off the neck of
a mannequin in
the window, fully
marked up, sale over
____________________________

They Hand Them Out With

they hand them out with
very little instructions
in these parts. it is
only sometimes
wallet-sized. i have
seen several distinctive
placards jerked
around as weapons
or shields – nothing
bulletin-sized,
mind you.
at the end of the
day, it is never really
a surprise –
we are wired to
form patterns, take
sides. it requires
more effort to
override the shortcut
than, say, pull
out that race card
____________________________

To Be Effective

to be effective,
it has to be
bite-sized,
a miniature
nudge of
dopamine,
honeycomb-
sticky, but
detachable.
to be addicted,
there should
be a semblance
of caving
in. or is it
the other
way around?
____________________________

The Degree To Which

the degree to which
we depend on the grace of
fire transforms us
____________________________

In A City Of

in a city of
over eight
million people,
we have no
choice but to
come together,
no excuse
but to rub
off on one
another,
no hope
but to keep
reaching
for that
reflection
gleaming
in the sun
____________________________

On Days Like These, Beneath

on days like these, beneath
the mostly muted sky,
the sun takes indulgences,
kisses adoration into the
cobblestone streets, kneads
radiance into each curve,
taking time to rehearse
the escape, to permit
in his absence a forbidden
phosphorescing, a public
grief, a shimmering sorrow
____________________________

There Is A Thawing Quality To

there is a thawing quality to
waking, except – instead of
melting – there is a
pulling together of atoms,
an activation of senses,
a bonding of nouns to
verbs, a slow architecture
of understanding that this,
this is waking, balanced
on the tip of numbness,
with only fractions of
milliseconds to decide
which way to fall
____________________________

It Is Not Uncommon

it is not uncommon
to weigh the strength
of our breath by the
pulse of a city
waking. if we can
manage to count
two city breaths
for every one we
take, then we are
still ahead
of the game, pal
____________________________

In An Accelerando

in an accelerando
towards the sun's
meditative encore,
an orchestral
cluster of birds
tune and re-tune
their plumes
to the pitch
of the horizon
____________________________

There Is A Very

there is a very
thin line between
living
and dying. and
stepping through
takes extraordinary
nothingness
____________________________

Under The Boardwalk

under the boardwalk
each wave rushes
forward with billowing
plumes, like long-held
secrets, aching for
a rapturous stretch
____________________________

No Other Month

no other month
inhabits itself like
april – the art of
uncertainty sprouts
gleaming from every
naked branch, each
minute embraces
sunlight, bewitched,
and a blossom is
a star, rising
____________________________

Could It Be

could it be
that at any given
moment,
while the entire
city blinks as the
sun sets, there
are thousands
of shutters
winking back?
____________________________

On The Subject

on the subject
of breaking
fast on sundays,
the most time-
tested formula
incorporates
something casual,
something new,
something
reminiscent, and
definitely nothing
urgent to pursue
____________________________

In Going Off The

in going off the
beaten path, there is
a sharpening of
senses – the soles
of your feet announce
it first, and for
several paces, you
are at a loss
for words. when it
winds its way up
the spine, opening
like fantastic
blossoms, there is
still no way to
tie it down – you
might as well
enjoy it
____________________________

There Are Some Things That

there are some things
that are not meant
to be a struggle –
learning to play,
loving whom you
love, discovering
a hobby, and
being yourself
____________________________

Across The City Grid, We

across the city grid, we
discover and unwrap
packages of time
to earmark for later,
always later.
like living anywhere
else, we are attracted
to short bursts
of energy, and the
city that never sleeps
sleeps with one
eye open
____________________________

Someone Has Yet To

someone has yet to
count the number of
bakeries in the
city – where every
window is a lens
into craftsmanship,
every grain of
flour, a seed to
a symphony
____________________________

Time Stands At The Edge

time stands at the edge
of each breath, waiting
as if on a cliff
to fall, fastened
by melancholy
____________________________

Summer Has A Way

summer has a way
of separating light, a
sizzling disbursement
____________________________

Summer Sneaks Into

summer sneaks into
the harbor, like a grace note
grazing the waters
____________________________

Time May Be Used To

time may be used to
taking the lead, but how you
follow makes the difference
____________________________

You Caught A Strand Of

you caught a strand of
afternoon in midair – a
pristine encryption
____________________________

Today Blows In, Already

today blows in, already
satisfied, gathering
the curtains in an
embrace as it
enters, barefoot,
wide-awake, closing
in on the ratio of
dreaming to doing
____________________________

July Daydreams Of

july daydreams of
october, that limitless
glitter of autumn

a breeze away from drifting
towards that first childhood crunch
____________________________

Things We've Promised To

things we've promised to
keep in stock –
safety pins, lip
balm, toilet paper,
smoked paprika,
flip-flops, the
ingredients for
lemon meringue,
super 8 film, and
the best of times
____________________________

Bathing In The

bathing in the
light of a
poem is like
approaching a
mountain top –
perspectives
shift, and
lightheadedness
follows
____________________________

There Are Parts Of

there are parts of
me that do not
recognize one
another, making
it difficult to
meet on a weekly
basis, air our
grievances, award
the best performers,
debate rebellions.
there are
stirrings on the
left, but in general,
no one party
stays still for long
____________________________

As A Species, We

as a species, we
press our luck, bury
ourselves in
making a living,
deterred and
undeterred
by the risk of
making an
impact, at
the rate of
unforeseeable
lifetimes
____________________________

Every So Often, We

every so often, we
return to the waters
to test our
solubility, to
weigh
our autonomy,
exercise our
immunity, to
dissolve –
hold on to me
as we go
____________________________

At The Docile Turn

at the docile turn
of September, a leaf drop,
a permanent blaze
____________________________

The Act Of Standing

the act of standing
up grows with the practice of
standing together
____________________________

The Pattern Of Each

the pattern of each
day develops its very
own entanglements –
a misplaced message,
a window jammed,
a hidden sock,
the kettle overflowing
____________________________

A Detour Dipped

a detour dipped
in toasted sesame
is a new
constellation
revealed from
the palms of
your hands
____________________________

In Mom's

in mom's
hands, winter's
emerald
layered
sheaths turn
into a golden
harvest
____________________________

I Don't Suppose Spinach

i don't suppose spinach
ever dreams beyond sun,
water, cool soil, and more
sun. it may never
imagine being folded
so lovingly, steamed
or lightly sautéed
with a touch of olive
oil and two cloves
of garlic. simplicity
sometimes eludes
the best of us
____________________________

Some Afternoons Are

some afternoons are
like this – you have held
the city as collateral, sunset
soaking what is left
of the sky like a late-
ripening wine –
and all you request
is that i return
again and again
____________________________

Because Of Last Night, You

because of last night, you
found a way to show that love
starts just this subtly –
at first light, a hot
oven, the flight of
vanilla, blueberry
finish – the pfannkuchen
served with freshly
squeezed sun
and a hint of
sweetness
like a confession
____________________________

A Performer Is A

a performer is a
star is an artist is
an idol is
a hired
hand is a
hypocrite is
a hero is a
minion is
a darling is a
desire is
a deity is a
servant is
a symbol is an
image –
my rubik's cube,
a cog in the machine
____________________________

Some Things Must Harden

some things must harden
before they can become soft
again – bread rising
in the oven, calyx bracing
for its petals, hearts clenched
against infection, you
taking a chance
on letting go
____________________________

In Everything Done

in everything done
well, there is a certain
level of performance
involved – creativity
takes wing, and for
a moment, we may
be allowed to bask
in the slipstream
____________________________

Every Now And Then

every now and
then, we look up
just to get our
bearings. beating
along an orthogonal
geometric grid,
eight million
hearts still scan
for each other in the
dark, determined
to sync
____________________________

Saturday Mornings, We

saturday mornings, we
towel off and get
dressed in the same
leisurely fashion, stroll
a block or two for
brunch to trade
sympathies,
sips, and sides, not
having to keep
track of the
sun soaking up
brooklyn to
eventually slip into
a puddle outside
of tomorrow
____________________________

A Successful Catch

a successful catch
depends on the quality
of the netting, for

example – what is this breast
without your hand to cup it
____________________________

Piling Cookies - Five

piling cookies – five,
seven, five – haiku-worthy,
leaving kigo crumbs
____________________________

The Hand That Receives

the hand that receives
is a storyteller, is a
historian, is a
mind-reader, is an
evangelist, is a
hard worker, is an
opportunist, is a
thief, is a
negotiator, is a
slave, is a
master, is a
son, a daughter,
a father, a mother,
is a child, is an
overseer, is a
lover, is a
dodger, is a
coward, is
a winner
____________________________

In The Light Of The Same

in the light of the same
setting sun, we can see
so much. against this
emotional spectacle,
we close our eyes
and wish for more
____________________________

Those Afternoons Have

those afternoons have
unraveled like a ribbon
from our careless hands
____________________________

Time Stretches Like A

time stretches like a
bird's wing –
decisive,
clean,
burdened –
here's
to eternity
____________________________

There Are Absenses

there are absences
the size of a tear in
your coat pocket,
manageable to a
degree until
something slips,
is lost, and no
amount of backtracking
and scanning the
pavement of
your memories
will retrieve that
abandoned feeling
____________________________

Just Before Day

just before day-
break, we are
porous,
allowing dreams
to come into
dreams, lifting
the unconscious
out of silence.
though you are only
a fraction of a
layer away,
awakening
staggers all senses
____________________________

This Morning, Scrambled

this morning, scrambled
with heirloom tomatoes, your
stolen eggs – i'm hooked
____________________________

One Plum, Two Plums, Three

one plum, two plums, three –
scattering like a broken
charm bracelet, seizing
a last bit of
sun before slipping
securely into your bag
____________________________

For Just A Moment

for just a moment,
children are calligraphy
brushes for a new

script – resilient, supple,
sharp – a refreshed narrative
____________________________

For The Living, Death

for the living, death
is putting away the
jigsaw, one
puzzle piece of
longing at a time

clinging
to a single
memory
diminishes
the meaning
____________________________

I Only Need To

i only need to
sleep until the sun comes up –
my brain is playing

blackjack with my body, and
neither is doubling down
____________________________

You Have Taught Us

you have taught us
to be like blades
of grass – the taller
you grow, the
lower you must
bend – sometimes
it is hard
to see the sun
from here
____________________________

On The Corner, Time

on the corner, time
stands still,
waiting
to be
picked up, passed
by, desired, and
abandoned – all at once
multidimensional,
to be explored
by none other
than theoretical
scientists
of the heart
____________________________

There's Freedom In Not

there's freedom in not
knowing on which side your bread
is honey-buttered
____________________________

Beyond Pixels And

beyond pixels and
patterns, we stretch
our reflections,
finding
an unexpected
resilience
____________________________

There Is Uncharted

there is uncharted
territory within a
bead of water caught

by the curve of october's
wrist, waiting to be released
____________________________

Again And Again I

again and again
i stumble
upon pain,
failing to grasp
the true nature
of things
____________________________

With The Right

with the right
combination,
going back
is like finding
gold in the most
everyday things
____________________________

Accept Happiness

accept happiness
as ephemeral,
recognize pain
as evanescent,
life's coin
is weighted
equally elusive,
equally attractive
____________________________

At The End Of Your

at the end of your
cigarette is the
sun, rising as it
smolders –
a fleeting
symmetry
____________________________

As Time Must

as time must
pass, permit it
to carry away
your troubles
____________________________

In November's

in November's
backyard, casting
afternoon shadows
against the wall,
an impression
of impermanence –
a sparrow,
a tree, a memory –
altogether brief
____________________________

The City Revels

the city revels
in the reveal – sharing a
moonlit exposure
____________________________

Without Warning

without warning,
the quietest
memories can
sprout wings –
in the middle
of the afternoon,
so suddenly
aflutter – a minute,
a heart, an eternity
____________________________

There Is Only Glass

there is only glass
between today and
tomorrow –
the answer lies
in how you
look past it
____________________________

The Sun Sets Like Good

the sun sets like good
medicine, moving
across and
through the body
of sky for day's
solution, inevitably
comforting,
no delays
____________________________

Though One May Not

though one may not
change the world,
one can bend
with compassion
and wisdom
to take it on
____________________________

At Any Given Moment, There

at any given
moment, there
are at least a
dozen equations
waiting
to be solved –
the big picture
is built from
miniatures
____________________________

Moving On Wears The

moving on wears the
semblance of letting go, but
holds all too steady

the axis on which it spins
perpetually away
____________________________

We Connect To

we connect to
disconnect, bringing
our bodies into
brilliant focus –
you might look
all new
in winter's light
____________________________

The Year Of The Horse

the year of the horse
arrives, jangling –
bounty or
burden –
take a ride
____________________________

No One Has Yet

no one has yet
isolated the
molecule, but
everyone suspect
it exists. what else
could consistently
carry, fold,
unfold, mend,
and polish,
at times lovingly,
these earliest
memories –
holding them
together
like a kind of
alphabet
for survival
____________________________

I Would Repeat You

i would repeat you
if i could, even if every
version ends the same
____________________________

Yesterday's Snow Lets

yesterday's snow lets
go of the branches like spring
blossoms – i, too, yield
____________________________

The City Is An

the city is an
impulse every time, the same
way you take to me
____________________________

Stop Wasting Time

stop wasting time
finding fault in
others. look to
yourself – time
spent on
resentment
becomes
your own
undoing
____________________________

We Tuck Bookmarks All

we tuck bookmarks all
over the city, as a
reminder of where

we were and when we will re-
turn to finish our story
____________________________

It Takes A Word To

it takes a word to
undo a thousand words' journey –
please don't be careless
____________________________

We Become Everything

we become everything
and nothing, not always
in that order.
life scatters only
to return, like improvised
notes, not ready to be put down
____________________________

In Essence, All

in essence, all
livelihoods are made
in slices –
the hours bent
over spreadsheets,
a quarter of
an empty room
mopped,
the weight of
winter melon in
early spring, seeds
and all
____________________________

You Squeeze Air Into

you squeeze air into
golden sustenance, a leaf
fueling the wind
____________________________

Go Down, Build Up

(go down, build up)

flowing freely
our blood, a nation
stands still, we push it with
defense pacing erratically as the stream
our first line of
denying incomprehensively
allow them to run over
your eyes
raise spare hands to
the possibility of time
with toothpicks
while combing slowly
certain passes but calculated injury
of waiting, nothing
a mild detachment on the steps
to disregard, to record
such planning
rounding the corner of
post-prevention
raise both hands to your temples
read it backwards
turn it over
take this newly punctured seed
____________________________

In Every Third Yard

in every third yard
of curtain, there is
a propensity for
play, a game of
hide-and-go-
seek eagerly waiting
for the reveal.
in between, there
are patterns that wish
to be left in darkness,
to hang perfectly
ironed by time –
please don't pull
____________________________

It's Simple Fractions

it's simple fractions –
a sliver of each
day spent finding
fault in others
is a slice
of a
lifetime lost
for one's own
reflection
____________________________

There's A Middle School

there's a middle school
field trip feeling
on those late
afternoon flights –
the hum of massive
engines weave between
daydreams, whispers,
and minutes that go by
unaccounted for, like
the names of cities,
towns that
hardly register
____________________________

With Great Hatred

with great hatred
comes great loss
____________________________

A Cup Of Wild Things

a cup of wild things,
two hands and a heart, added in
just right, equals love
____________________________

These Undefined Days

these undefined days
can define us – nothing's so
clear as the present
____________________________

Do Not Be Riveted

do not be riveted
by your own
views, lest
you be caught
in your own regret
____________________________

Hello, June, Goodbye

hello, june, goodbye,
rhubarb, that slow simmering
into summer days
____________________________

Forward Movement Is

forward movement is
anchored by the past – do not
forget where you were
____________________________

Sunday Brunch Rolls Up

sunday brunch rolls up
against the sun, one lick away
from getting burnt
____________________________

If You Look

if you look
the other way long
enough, there may
not be an opportunity
to look back
____________________________

Life Is A Gravel

life is a gravel
driveway –
words, the stones
you choose
to pave,
toss, or throw
____________________________

On The Pennsylvanian

on the Pennsylvanian,
the train whistle
is a shepherd's
whistle, gathering
these untuned city
heartstrings
and pulling them
towards the window,
an oboe to
my orchestra
____________________________

There Is A Tear In

there is a tear in
the lining of each day, though
most have no notion
____________________________

I Drill Down On Our

i drill down on our
memories, rotate each
bit clockwise and counter-
clockwise to test the
depth, bring together
differences in order
to find alignment –
some reflections
have long
become impenetrable
____________________________

I Love The Way You

i love the way you
scrawled Brooklyn
onto the side
of my care
package, each
letter a seed
aimed for home.
years later, those
calligraphic
tendrils still
blossom in my heart
like the perennials
in your garden,
a surprise and
not a surprise
____________________________

Both Sooner And

both sooner and
later, time
passes –
let it
____________________________

In Every City

in every city,
the heart seeks
an alignment
to wrap its arms
and legs around,
step through,
and slide
____________________________

September Breaks Out

september breaks out
her box of colored
pencils, sharpens
each to the
point, puckers her
mouth to summer's
last glass of ice-
cold lemonade,
and allows
the aria to begin
____________________________

To Arrive Is

to arrive is
accidental, to
depart is inevitable.
let go, there's a force
that comes
and goes
beyond
____________________________

I Know I Will Have Trouble

i know i will have trouble
falling asleep today,
tomorrow, maybe
the next day, but
life
will catch up with
death, or vice versa,
and time will slowly draw
our strings together again
____________________________

The Sky Is A Sinkhole

the sky is a sinkhole
when cloudy like that,
disconnectedly
consuming,
while you search
for a
little grace
____________________________

At First Blush, We Are

at first blush, we are
most
promising,
tomorrow
is a bouquet,
obscuring
our view
____________________________

Among Stars, We Take

among stars, we take
turns to shine, striking against each
other for a flare
____________________________

November Twists And

november twists and
turns like sky giving way to
river – autumn's punch
____________________________

Autumn Announces

autumn announces
its transformation in stages –
signs of loneliness
____________________________

More Than Any Other

more than any other
season, autumn
is a reminder,
lighting
the way
____________________________

It's Easy To Lose

it's easy to lose
yourself in
the best seconds
of the day, stretched
like taffy
in new hands
____________________________

Happenstance Is The

happenstance is the
glue that holds
beauty together –
our attention tugs
at new means to contain
one another, slipping in
and out – a golden ratio
____________________________

Sparkling Or Still

sparkling or still
we place ourselves
along the spectrum
wondering about
the feeling of
discovery
____________________________

We Are All Pieces

we are all pieces
of the same
puzzle, waiting
to find each other
or fall apart
____________________________

Morning And Evening

morning and evening
stretches – the spirit warming
up and returning
____________________________

The Search For

the search for
serenity –
combing for
the jewel
of the sea
____________________________

From Light Into

from light into
darkness, i am
pulling away from
you, time
once again
loosening, earth
spinning
away, twice as fast
____________________________

Knowing And Not

knowing and not
knowing are two
sides of the same
coin –
give it a toss
____________________________

For A Moment, The

for a moment, the
sun felt high, as if it could
last an afternoon

longer, no worries, no rush,
waves lapping this side of sky
____________________________

A New Year On The

a new year on the
horizon – fascinating,
shiny, limitless
____________________________

The Years Gather Like

the years gather like
pleats, pinned into
place hastily by the
unsteady fingers of
memory, only to
reveal that we are
no closer to
immortality
than we imagined
we would be
____________________________

It's The Way The Sun

it's the way the sun
meets the curtains every
morning to scatter
light, exposing
a dream
as a dream –
images shift,
the mind levels up –
running towards
or away always
leads back home
____________________________

Who And What We Are

who and what we are
is not a fixed point, give yourself
a little more room
____________________________

The Fact Of The Matter Is

the fact of the matter is
we climb into bed each night
carrying so much rubbish
and wake up every morning
the closest to equilibrium
we will reach, neither loving
nor hating. take that kernel
and stare into it, there's
a world of possibilities
____________________________

Pulled Slightly Between

pulled slightly between
seasons, we adjust
to that old
ache, fine-tuning
the pain as if each
memory were
a louver in the
window,
considering light
____________________________

My Body Protests

my body protests
but my brain knows there's more to
life than sleep – knowledge

is a reckless thing, sparing
so few while on the hunt
____________________________

The Morning After Arrives

the morning after
arrives like any other –
someone cranks the gear

for the sun, checks in on the
chickens first, wakes the cities second
____________________________

Morning Light Streams In

morning light streams in
through a row of windows, cubed
and ready to melt
____________________________

Winter Into Spring

winter into spring,
remnants of moments started
and not quite finished
____________________________

Youth Seems So

youth seems so
real, you can close
your eyes, return to
that moment, stir
the curtains, and still
find him
hiding there
____________________________

Remember That Year

remember that year
when one stem of a peony
cost an entire

piano lesson, how young
we were back then, how present
____________________________

Always, Always There

always, always, there
is a tug towards the light, to
peak over the edge
____________________________

Morning Arrives Charged

morning arrives charged
with possibilities – even
to stay or to go

are two options branching off
into infinite prospects
____________________________

Sometimes The Cause And

sometimes the cause and
the remedy are one and
the same – ginger for

hiccups, a fine rain for bad
luck, travel for loneliness
____________________________

At What Stage Do We

at what stage do we
become lazy, permit
disappointment to
creep in, hold us
hostage, like the best
drama series this season
____________________________

Under Pressure, We

under pressure, we
can choose to speed
up or slow
down – the moment
is a platform
creaking underneath
the weight
____________________________

You Can't Fight Your Way

you can't fight your way
to the front of the train doors
and not budge once you've

stepped through – i guess everyone
has their own form of sanity
____________________________

Waking Before The

waking before the
6:32 sunrise is
like walking along
the corridors of the
music building and
searching for an
available practice
room through
eavesdropping.
the hallway is a
symphony, and somehow,
when the sun finally
rises, all the birds
fall silent,
except that one,
and you know for sure
that you are awake
____________________________

The Sun Rose One

the sun rose one
minute earlier today,
birds all at once
silenced, at attention,
except the eastern
towhee, still trying
to steal you away
from home after
all these years
____________________________

In The Backyard, A

in the backyard, a
cardinal pauses on
the branches of
our dogwood –
are we sharing
it with him, or
is he sharing it
with us?
____________________________

I Am Up Half An

i am up half an
hour before the early
bird, who is up half

an hour before sunrise –
we wrestle for the airwaves
____________________________

Nearing The End Of

nearing the end of
a season, petals
fall and rally
around their
tree before being
picked up
by the wind.
every turn is
possible, may
we be that lucky
____________________________

When Happiness Is

when happiness is
intertwined, there
is more room to
make mistakes
and more
resiliency to
spring forward
____________________________

With Time, We Learn To

with time, we learn to
train our gaze inwards, allow
for more perspectives
____________________________

Crossing From Brooklyn

crossing from Brooklyn
into Manhattan takes a
bit of magic – you

stretch out all the stories, like
hand-pulling cotton candy
____________________________

Coming Home To A

coming home to a
reflection of a reflection
of the sun setting –

a reminder to be just
as genuine with ourselves
____________________________

It Is Us, And Not

it is us, and not
the city,
that makes
every
moment hum
____________________________

The Day Before My

the day before my
birthday, i am
away from the
city and
home, once
again, a daughter,
a child, a gardener,
an herbalist, a sister,
a granddaughter,
all of whom are
vessels transporting
memories to the
plant, dispersing
the years
____________________________

For A Moment

for a moment,
we stretch
ourselves
towards
the light, stay
afloat
until
our time is up
____________________________

We Are Packed

we are packed
with brilliant
paradoxes –
step back to
take more
pleasure in each
____________________________

To Become

to become
the master
of our urges
is to spend
a lifetime
adjusting
____________________________

We Spend Time Matching

we spend time matching
one another's intriguing
particles, simply

allowing ourselves to be
taken in, tailored for light
____________________________

There Is A Picking

there is a picking
up quality to letting
go – unstressed, upbeat,

introductory – a slow
anacrusis to the release
____________________________

For Every Instance

for every instance
we discover the limits
of the real world, we
stumble upon clues
that there could be more
____________________________

The Days Are Designed

the days are designed
for melting –
when the caramel
hits just right,
we are hooked
____________________________

If Not Careful

if not careful,
progress can
stall where
disillusionment
begins – snap
out of it
____________________________

The Branches That

the branches that
form the timeline
of our lives
are never steady,
yet we still lean
on them for
the heavier stuff
____________________________

We Are Observing

we are observing
another anniversary
of your death, when
all of a sudden, years
are pressed more
tightly together, days
are returned with
renewed polish,
and our centers
are suspended, not quite
sure which way to topple
____________________________

If Butternut Squash

if butternut squash
could dream, it would dream
of you and how your
heart and hands received
its heart and body,
noticing everything
____________________________

There Are Moments Of Brilliance

there are moments of
brilliance, when
snow touches
light, a new
path is forged
____________________________

Alighting On The

alighting on the
present takes
wings, staying
in the present
takes discipline
____________________________

We Are More Fragile

we are more fragile
than we let on, granting
each other with an
extra day every so often
for a glimpse into the future
____________________________

There Is A Joy To

there is a joy to
having and not having, that
is the real secret
____________________________

We Act As If Time

we act as if time
were limitless, not seeing
the hour, the minute,
the second until it's out
of view, unrealized –
you tell me this
at the bus stop,
waiting for
the 22 on Mission,
as if it were the best
place to stop time,
delay departures
____________________________

As Portals Through Time

as portals through time
go, the rules are simple – look
closely, look again
____________________________

When Dusting Off Old

when dusting off old
memories, notice the shapes
left behind, outlines

clinging to every edge,
shadows swallowing up time
____________________________

Things We Chase And Things

things we chase and things
we do not chase – wind up
being all the same
____________________________

Beneath The Sheets And

beneath the sheets and
the comforter and the duvet,
our skins are learning

to stick together – like cotton
candy, blues chords, a pack of wolves
____________________________

In The Memory

in the memory
bank, scarring
requires a good
dose of new
memories
fragmented for
fibers to even
imagine mending
the damage –
there's no
anesthesia for
the procedure
____________________________

We Are Masks Under

we are masks under
masks – not being
able to anticipate
needs, we have
put them all on
____________________________

We Bump Into The Edges

we bump into the
edges of one another's
stories on the street,

in the park, at the gas station,
perhaps fueling our own
____________________________

Because Everything

because everything
else is so complex, let us lead
with simplicity,

unlock words that open up
the circulation, dilate
____________________________

We Are Charged To Break

we are charged to break
bread together, to share more
than an existence
____________________________

Sunday, I Am At

sunday, i am at
a loss for words – there are no
rules to our beliefs
____________________________

The First Of May Is

the first of may is
a time machine, offering
glimpses forwards and

backwards, measuring out both
more and less time for the taking
____________________________

Let's Practice Being

let's practice being
intermittent –
like rain,
it provides
the best of
opportunities
____________________________

As Long As We Hold

as long as we hold
each other accountable
for our reflections,

what you see in me and what
i see in you remains rich
____________________________

We Fill Our Pockets

we fill our pockets
with music before stepping
out, hearts on the brink
____________________________

Reality Is

reality is
interaction –
if not for
you, would i
have made
this quantum
leap, from orbit
to orbit, something
so fundamental,
and still,
a mystery
____________________________

Some Mornings Arrive

some mornings arrive
with a language borrowed from
dreams – be careful to

decipher, translate, measure
both its potency and weight
____________________________

We Will Always Find

we will always find
a bit of ourselves
stuck
in the past,
staring off
into the future
____________________________

Each Time You Pull

for dad

each time you pull
out a special tool
for fixing the things
that break, you teach
us how to hold
the problem in
our hands, engage
in solutions, find
the edges of
every rule.
equipped with
a lifetime of
tools, we still
find your love
immeasurable
____________________________

Every One-Sixty

every one-sixty-
seventh of a second, our
neural detectors
miss a fraction
of a signal,
miscalculate
the weight of a
sensation, allowing
for a natural
and inescapable
buildup –
some days become
just noise, some
years, irretrievable
____________________________

Some Corners Invite

some corners invite
memories to overlap,
unrolling the mind

so that new sensations can
take root, tussle for a light
____________________________

Within These Ripples

within these ripples
is where we
assemble
memories, catching
both light
and shadows
____________________________

There Are Moments When I

there are moments when
i don't want to leave home, seconds
when i long for hours –

tucked into childhood memories,
each feeling fading to an ache
____________________________

In The Pocket Of

in the pocket of
time, let us
grow something
wild, learn
to share
every morsel
____________________________

A Data Point Or

a data point or
two away from becoming
a pattern, we spark,

glimmer, look for enough sky
to be free of our equations
____________________________

If We Were To Press

if we were to press
into the possibilities,
time would put on
his favorite
cloak, allow
its edges to
brush every
temptation, leaving
a trail of
portals behind
____________________________

Discoveries Can

discoveries can
fold as much
as they can
unfold.
when we break
bread together
for the first
time, we won't
know the difference,
and it'll be as
much of a release
____________________________

I Am Merely A

i am merely a
bike ride away
from feeling
lost and found –
memories often
go 'round and
'round, stuck
hard greasing
the wheels
____________________________

Let's Break It To Each

let's break it to each
other slowly, iron out
each letter before
casting them into
words, meaning –
we might, just
might, catch ourselves
from spilling
____________________________

For Every Sunset, Two

for every sunset,
two horizons are meeting
and never touching
____________________________

Every Shape Of A

every shape of a
poem, yet unwritten, has you
in it, ready to

mend the inevitable
cracks, draw together meaning
____________________________

Time Forces Us To

time forces us to
move on. it's just that simple –
prepare to let go
____________________________

We Are Cosmic Dust

we are cosmic dust
grains, colliding to stick and
form new layers of

understanding, bring out rare
colors from within, learn to glow
____________________________

The Past Often Holds

the past often holds
itself with so much
heaviness,
the future
can't get in
____________________________

At Sunset, Portals

at sunset, portals
open up all across city
streets, curbside,
adjoining this world
with countless
others – so much
temptation
____________________________

Dear Future, You Are

dear future, you are
still mesmerizing, i am
still tumbling through
____________________________

When We Are

when we are
together, the minutes
are spun inside each
hour into cotton
candy, and the
day twirls, leaving
a sweet residue
____________________________

So It's True, We Will

so it's true, we will
die as magically as
we lived – let every

autumn be a reminder,
every memory, a test
____________________________

Perhaps Words Are Our

perhaps words are our
very first
spices, nestled
on our tongues
like lost and
found
treasures, waiting
to stir
one anothers
pots of
thoughts and
lived experiences,
make little
explosions,
calm unnerved
nerves
____________________________

Let Us Nurture The

let us nurture the
things we do not yet
know of each other –
memories saved in lost
pockets for rainy
days, chapters
that turn up on every
other corner
in the east village,
the strangeness
that only gets
stranger with
waiting – allow
us to earn
more questions
____________________________

Being Present Takes

being present takes
practice –
it's not so much
about catching
milliseconds
as they pass,
but allowing
them to slip
right through,
unhooked
by this, that,
and the other
____________________________

In The Middle Of The Night, Words

in the middle of
the night, words have
a tendency to flow
backwards, feelings
make a decision to
solidify or
dissipate. sleep
comes eventually
like honey to flies,
slowing down each
thought, arresting
those golden wings
____________________________

Standing On The Edge

standing on the edge
with you and without you are
two timelines with the

same heart – everything changes
even if the view stays the same
____________________________

The Present Is A

the present is a
quiver from which we will pull
memory-tipped arrows

to aim at the past and the
future, anywhere but here
____________________________

Having The Luxury To

having the luxury to
look and look away
keeps us half in and
half out – it is
an ephemeral
extravagance,
an expensive blurring
____________________________

On The Winding Path

on the winding path
towards the end to all things,
the words we use
and the words we don't
use to coax ourselves into
living can change
connotation, break down,
become unstable. i tell you
this with only the words
i have, needing you
to make space
for new meaning
____________________________

We Zigzagged Across

we zigzagged across
an entire city to
arrive here, in this

moment, newly found or lost,
it is always a fine line
____________________________

I Went With Scenario

i went with scenario
seven and discovered
the impermanence of
things, how history
can often present
familiar equations
while centuries of
mathematical lovers
will get it wrong, over
and over again.
i went with scenario
seven and came
to realize that
undivided time
is as much of a
variable as the heart
is a gravitational
constant, difficult
to measure with
any accuracy
____________________________

I Am Doing The

i am doing the
thing i do best, please don't
discourage. in the light of
day, self-preservation
absentmindedly pulls
on the drawstrings
to tighten the hood
of detachment
so that looking out
beats looking in
____________________________

I Am Mostly In

i am mostly in
love with your
tell – when i am
hungry, i will
forever know
where to go now,
and when i am
thirsty, i will bend
at the waist
for a dip as deep
as you will allow,
folding me into
those radiant ripples,
all at once so
cool and warm,
quenching
____________________________

Perhaps We Are All Two

perhaps we are all two,
three, fifty-three selves
meeting and unmeeting.
who's to say holding
it together is better
than allowing some
selves to fray, get
caught, tangled in
another's edges,
so that when we are
pulled apart, gathering
up our separate
threads, there
will be remnants,
a change in color
or texture, weight
or pattern, a natural
weathering
that somehow
strengthens us
____________________________

How Can We Bottle

how can we bottle
up this anxiety, make it
useful, so that we
can wake up sunday
morning, tilt it
over a stack of
blueberry pancakes,
and still enjoy
the scenery
____________________________

What You Are Supposed

what you are supposed
to do, she said, is
move on.
that is exactly
what these moments are
for – to remember
that you are
alive every so
often so that you can
go back to the
business
of living again
____________________________

In The Winter Of

in the winter of
14th and broadway, we
meet for hot chocolate
like clockwork – italian
thick when the mexican
spicy has run out, soft
marshmallowy licks
over crunchy bits –
could be love or
could be lust, such
small cups, and
moments,
always leave you
wanting more
____________________________

Here It Is - You

here it is –
you have
done with me
what the sun
does
to the shoreline
of each
continental
coast –
so much
darkness
in between
____________________________

So Much Of Day Is

so much of day is
a longing
for light, perhaps
there is a
flickering as we
maintain the
right amount of
exposure, project
the appropriate
reflection towards
each other, counting
on the same back.
we look away
every now and then
so as not to break
the illusion
____________________________

Don't Get Yourself

don't get yourself
stolen, i want to say
when i push you
away. it takes years
to perfect
the self-
discovery that
emerges
only with
self-denial. i am
hungry and
not hungry when
it comes to you
____________________________

I Know, And Now You

i know, and now you
know, how this will go –
there will be
one week when i will
be indecisive about emptying
the wicker trash bin in the
bedroom, months when i
will avoid vacuuming
one or two corners of the
apartment for fear of
erasing you, a year or
five may go by before i
walk down that street
or head to the cloisters
again, and still, there
will be pockets within
minutes, here and there,
when i will, without so
many words, bump into
the feeling the last time…
was with you over and
over, until you become
like a fragrance from
lifetimes before
____________________________

The Best Place To Hide

the best place to hide
a poem is in a body
of poetry – clean,

effective, uninfectious,
like cauterizing a wound
____________________________

For Seven, Maybe

for seven, maybe
eight hours, i tried you on
with a different

lens – i don't like to share more
of myself than i have to
____________________________

Every So Often, Light

every so often,
light filters into the
memories i didn't
know i kept
of you – the
oversight torments
me, reevaluates
the dimensions
of devotion
____________________________

I Do Not Know How

i do not know how
to proceed from here –
you have finally
asked me to stop
writing, in the middle of
winter, perhaps requiring
a new window
treatment for the
bedroom, a
lining or two
thicker to retain what is
left of the warmth in here,
a fabric carrying more
weight, so that i stay
grounded, thoughts do not
drift, every time
i undo and redo the
tieback, cold fingers
lingering for light
____________________________

I Bury Things, Night

i bury things, night
and day, move
through fiction
and nonfiction to feel
safe. you have no
idea how boring
and terrifying
non-sequential
time can seem
____________________________

For Fear Of Being

for fear of being
terrified, i make
small waves, swim
away from the edge
and back, as though i could
possibly get the hang
of it, run directly into
indiscretions for a touch
of normalcy, a stretch of
distraction.
and still,
i amass all
the words in my
throat so that
they have to choose
whether to be
malignant
or benign. i smile
and say all the important
things because they cover
up other important things,
i pirouette when poked,
try not to make more
friends than i have to
____________________________

Everything Is So

everything is so
good that we have time to
wonder if they're not
is the title of a
chapter within a lost
manuscript hidden in the
ashes centuries from
now when you, he,
she, and they are
incomprehensible as
anything outside of i
____________________________

There Are Seconds

there are seconds
that converge every
morning to act as a
fine-meshed strainer,
separating parts of
myself from other
parts of myself.
i am awake
in this world again,
severed from all other
possible worlds,
recalibrating for
traces of paralysis
____________________________

We Meet Up With And

we meet up with and
take leave of one another
at every corner –

the time during which we may or
may not linger gives us away
____________________________

There Is An Old, New

there is an old, new
paralysis – a hitchhiker
on the most bearable
days, a parasite on
the worst – that pins
down a hand, an
arm, a leg, a morsel
of every hour, crushing
the cells and membranes
of day. we feel
sick about it all
the time, emerge
from the stupor
spasmodically to ask
one another for best and
worst case scenarios,
readjust our negativity
bias for a version
of survival
____________________________

It's An Inexact

it's an inexact
science, how we will spend our
whole lives migrating

in a circle to survive, like
wildebeest, chasing the rain
____________________________

In The Absence Of

in the absence of
you, there is even more
presence – more
questions, infinite
unknowns, undivided
attention to the
possibilities of
how you
like it. nine-tenths
of a second is about
preparing for
the next second. i
apply oil to all of the
hinges, ready to step
into and out of these
intervals of waiting
____________________________

Every Third Hour, There

every third hour, there
is a slow sliding into
contentment, or an

okayness with the world, being
alive is a navigation
____________________________

We Are Daring, We

we are daring, we
are impulsive, pushing the
boundaries of these

tales we tell ourselves, and the
ones into which we aim to grow
____________________________

Perhaps With Time, We

perhaps with time, we
all curl or spiral inwards –
or is it that we

unwind, become loose, making
serpentine patterns here, there
____________________________

Sorrow Sneaks In

sorrow sneaks in with
too much joy, no terrain is
without its landmines
____________________________

We Borrow Life For

we borrow life for
a little while, taking care
not to overstay
____________________________

All Of It Begins

all of it begins
to fade even as we are
capturing it – pen

to paper, experience
to memory – don't hold on
____________________________

If We Are Lucky

if we are lucky,
life strips us of life
quickly or
very slowly –
the pain lingers
like a lost
formula, waiting
for someone to
come along
and solve it
____________________________

Between Holding It All

between holding it all
in and not knowing
how you have held it
all in is the color
of regret, the
shape of
forgetfulness,
as natural
and unnatural
as time
____________________________

They Don't Tell You That

they don't tell you that
with every decision comes a
shedding off of a

protective coat or a donning
of a layer – yes to both
____________________________

Hours Before The

hours before the
dive – we've collected enough
trinkets and years to

understand that there are no
guarantees, only marvel
____________________________

After All These Years

after all these years,
our days are not reliable
predictors of our

nights – we continue to dazzle
one another off the cuff
____________________________

You And I Still Stop

you and i still stop
for the possibilities
of mutant clovers

sometimes – faith, hope, love, luck – caught
growing between every gap
____________________________

Discovery And

discovery and
re-discovery
sometimes
rub against each
other, having so
little choice
____________________________

Summer Catches On

summer catches on
the hem of a lost city
the first chance he gets
____________________________

Remember I Told

remember i told
you there is only zen when
you stop searching – it's

more like a leaning into the
wind to stay still, for a moment
____________________________

We Are Always An

we are always an
illusion away from real
life – not knowing where

exactly the curtains can be
parted is another layer
____________________________

Some Moments Carry

some moments carry
summer the way afternoons
carry light, briefly
____________________________

Possibilities

possibilities
must be watered regularly,
pruned every now and

then to signal new growth, spur
imagination, sway chance
____________________________

The Patterns You

the patterns you
observe in time
are meant
to cushion every
anomaly, the way
packaging foam
hugs the curves
of each fruit
to hold the juices
in, keep from
bruising.
so don't
be restless, my
dear, don't
insist that you are
bored. sink into
the patterns
of our lives,
soak it in between
the days, the years
____________________________

You And I Reflect

you and i reflect
one another, imperfectly,
like glass mosaics,

a shimmering geometry,
intricate in every shade
____________________________

Line By Line, Curve By

line by line, curve by
curve, the city camouflages
past recognition
____________________________

With Time, We Will See

with time, we will see
that we have left
a trail, some
markings
to indicate
how we have
danced in time
____________________________

Every Once In A

every once in a
while, it is like us to knock
on one another's

hearts, ask for the password to
kindness, loneliness, patience
____________________________

We Are Ready For

we are ready for
winter, fists full of candied
ginger, tongues burning
____________________________

There Is Still A Bit

there is still a bit
of summer left in the way you
smile, an unmarked time
____________________________

Even A Speck Of

even a speck of
memory can carry
loss, signal
in morse code,
illuminate
____________________________

With Every Turn, A

with every turn, a
reveal, exquisite in detail,
obscure in capture
____________________________

Autumn Finds Us

autumn finds us
dreaming
of summer
while steeped
in its cool
beauty
____________________________

Recognizing Only A Splinter

recognizing only a splinter
of a fragment of how
the observable
universe works, i am stuck
wondering if somewhere,
in the constellation
hydra, someone has
looked out her window
for the last time, a witness
to the collision, ouroboros
____________________________

When Reality

when reality
flickers, you realize all
of it were merely

reflections, from this life to
the next, mirrors to polish
____________________________

Inside Each Waiting

inside each waiting
are small sachets of seasoned
waiting, provided

principally as a source
of comfort, preservation
____________________________

The Trick To Getting

the trick to getting
out of a sticky situation
is to fall apart
completely, deconstruct
so that you are no
longer a whole
onto yourself,
but a grain
of cosmic
dust, puzzle-
shaped and counting
on repeating patterns
to complete the picture
____________________________

I Am Delicately

i am delicately
peeling into
this memory i have
of you – how we
rarely had
lychees
in our youth
unless
you were visiting –
maybe you'd carry
with you only
a small bag of
the sweet fruits,
and still, it was
up to us
to peel away
the tough outer
layer, past the inner
membrane,
to get to
the unforgettable
part, the stuff
of memories
____________________________

Because Everything Important

because everything
important is invisible,
we become clumsy,

heedlessly tugging on the
tripwires, reckless with our 緣
____________________________

It Is Dangerous

it is dangerous
to eat sourdough bread alone –
so many craters

to stuff errant thoughts in, pits
to catch and twist tender fancies
____________________________

Between Wings And A

between wings and a
slice of sky is a net tailored
to catch morning's light
____________________________

On The Streets Of Love

on the streets of love,
unevenness triggers growth,
keeping us balanced
____________________________

There Will Be Days When

there will be days when
time slips by, moments become
solids, love, liquid
____________________________

We Dip Into Each

we dip into each
weekend like it's the very
best sauce to go with

the taste that came before, like
a spicy prelude to hunger
____________________________

Maybe We Are More

maybe we are more
asymmetrical –
right and
left do not
check in
as often as
they would have us
believe –
leaving us
in a constant
state of striving
for equilibrium
____________________________

There Are Phases Of

there are phases of
Moon that will forever light
up specific cells,

activating love, loss, pain,
and then all over again
____________________________

When Your History

when your history
rubs against my history,
let us not collapse
____________________________

In The Fabric Of

in the fabric of
each moment, there are stitches
of joy, of sadness –

we mindlessly pick at them,
not recognizing which is which
____________________________

Even After Some

even after some
time and distance,
with years under
the belt, we will not
see a pattern, there
will be holes
in routines, we will get
lost somewhere,
searching a false
bottom for a semblance
of stability
____________________________

Saturday Morning Baking

saturday morning
baking smells more golden than
the unbound sunrise
____________________________

There Is A Bit Of

there is a bit of
desert in the city, story
after secluded

story, waiting for the sun
to light upon it just right
____________________________

There Is A Bit Of You

there is a bit of
you that takes me
out of me –
that's what it
boils down to –
an awakening
that is more like
a peeling away
____________________________

I Tuck Memories

i tuck memories
into each corner of these
city streets – cross, do

not cross, pivot, turn around –
messages from another me
____________________________

In Between Getting

in between getting
started and getting it done
are unnamed moments

for breathing creativity
into each block, every curve
____________________________

In Life And In Death

in life and in death,
we will walk alone – in between,
let us be wholly

fooled by the closeness of it
all, heart to heart, skins touching
____________________________

Between This World

between this world
and all the
others, there is
little to divide
us but
our minds
____________________________

Let Us Welcome One

let us welcome one
another's differences,
activate untapped
potential
with the simplicity
of sharing our
sometimes
complex
stories
____________________________

If All The World's A

if all the world's a
stage, we must endeavor to
do better next time
____________________________

It's True, These Days Will

it's true, these days will
taste concentrated as a
bouillon cube – don't let

your tongue become desensitized,
exercise a cleansing thirst
____________________________

Some Wounds Grow Bigger

some wounds grow bigger
with time, whether we are looking
or not looking, we

will not be able to foresee
the precise point of no return
____________________________

Let Us Always Stretch

let us always stretch
for love and not anticipate
how love stretches back
____________________________

Maybe It's Only

maybe it's only
the shape of things that will survive
when the colors fade,

when the taste is not quite right,
when our hearts fumble with doubt
____________________________

The Middle Of The End

the middle of the
end looks very much like the
beginning, over

and over again, until we
can no longer turn around
____________________________

This Evening, When The

this evening, when the
sandhill cranes arrived, you noticed
one colt missing – from

four to three to two to one, we
will one day all go missing
____________________________

There's Expectation

there's expectation
in the unexpected – a pair
of wings picking out

a single blossom between a
skyscraper and its shadow
____________________________

There Are Layers To

there are layers to
memories that reside in
whispers – not knowing

what happened to the other colt
gets pushed into these shadows
____________________________

With Proper Distance

with proper distance,
the border stands out, you know
exactly when and

where to stop, appreciate
boundaries, be neighborly
____________________________

Repetition Of

repetition of
thought often warps truth, like sun
torturing structure
____________________________

In The City, We

in the city, we
are stories within
windows
within stories –
reflect
____________________________

We Will Memorize

we will memorize
one another's histories
all wrong, not because

we haven't tried, but because
we may have tried much too hard
____________________________

Sometimes Forging Your Own

sometimes forging your
own path means not really knowing
the history of

those who have come before us –
i say this for your own good
____________________________

Some Mysteries Will

some mysteries will
remain beyond
reach until you
find yourself staring
down
that same old path
once more,
and it looks
like a barrier
or a way out
____________________________

From The Backyard, We

from the backyard, we
have looked into forever
and not said a word
____________________________

At Every Divide, We

at every divide,
we choose to build or not build
a bridge – travelers

who come after us choose to
take or not take the crossing
____________________________

On The Very Edge Of

on the very edge
of the horizon are more
horizons, for this
we can celebrate another
day, another forty-four
years together
____________________________

The Thing About A

the thing about a
city is not exactly
the city, but the

layers behind the layers, those
personal built-in triggers
____________________________

The Easiest Out

the easiest out
is to reserve so much
passion for all
the ways that
you are right,
you can no
longer see the
other as a
person, but merely
a counterpoint
____________________________

We Are Pieces Of

we are pieces of
the same
puzzle, looking to
fit in across
any universe
____________________________

The World Grows

the world grows
smaller
after this,
sweeping one too
many summers
under an old moon
____________________________

At The End Of A

at the end of a
new york
minute, there are
just more
minutes
masquerading
as hours, days,
galaxies
____________________________

Even Now, We Are Counting

even now, we are
counting up and counting down –
the wait, our lives spent
____________________________

In The Autumn Of

in the autumn of
our days, we will be lost in
dazzling beauty –

the late noon sun will shine just so,
obscuring the tenuousness
____________________________

This Moment In Time

this moment in time
is a tried-and-true recipe –
to a heaping spoon

of have-nots, stir in a warm cup
of fear, add a pinch of dogma
____________________________

In The Middle Of A Golden

in the middle of
a golden hour, we wrestle for
more time than given
____________________________

The Impermanence

the impermanence
of things pains me – this afternoon,
finding a crack in

grandma's ring and wondering
how it got there, how to rewind
____________________________

Being Alive Is

being alive is
magnetic,
unwrapped,
blazing,
wounded,
penciled in,
stranded,
realized,
imperfect
____________________________

In The Blink Of An

in the blink of an
eye, we will be
on the other
side, dusting off
all that fuss
____________________________

Days Before The New

days before the new
year, old
memories stumble
upon even older
memories, overlap,
wrinkle, uninvited.
between resisting
and not resisting
is the acceptance
that they will arise
fewer and farther
between in the
years to come.
let them
kaleidoscope in
remembrance of us
____________________________

January Is Making

january is
making amends without making
amends, years later
____________________________

January Is Discovering

january is
discovering patterns where
they have always been
____________________________

In The Middle Of The Night, Unexpectedly

in the middle of
the night,
unexpectedly,
the brain becomes a
live wire,
looking to make
a connection
____________________________

Try Not To Be More

try not to be more
broken than the tools you have
at your disposal
____________________________

We Will Lose Our Place

we will lose our place
in the middle of each other's
stories, again and

again – be my bookmark, and
i'll be yours, let's turn the page
____________________________

How Many Words Does

how many words does
it take to bridge all the other
words moments after

an accident, an intention,
a right place at the right time?
____________________________

From Some Distance, The

from some distance, the
weight will appear much lighter
than they are – even

the edges will shimmer as
if the risk were ephemeral
____________________________

Perhaps These Days Will

perhaps these days will
be a fenceful of locks to
pick, finding the right

combinations, only a
matter of whom to cajole
____________________________

If Gratitude Had

if gratitude had
a flavor, we would not know
we can't have enough
____________________________

Closer To The End

closer to the end,
all of this will matter
less and
less – why we used
words at all
____________________________

Here Is A Day That

here is a day that
looks like any other day,
except how it breaks
____________________________

The Days Do Not Add

the days do not add
up neatly, do not form an
intelligible

pattern that could help direct
the lost, the living, the lucky
____________________________

Perhaps Spring Appears

perhaps spring appears
and disappears mostly with
no regard for our

single-minded seasonal
cleaning – we are caught coatless
____________________________

Sunday Flirts With Our

sunday flirts with our
senses, entices us to
unwind, let go of

burdensome time, until we
are forced to count down the hours
____________________________

Towards The End Of

towards the end of
times, we will come to the sudden
realization that

it was language that harmed us
most, competing with our senses
____________________________

Even When Facing

even when facing
the same direction, we will
notice different things,

rest our gaze on one perch longer
than another, be uneven
____________________________

Perhaps There Are More

perhaps there are more
than two americas, maybe
a third, a fifth, a
two hundred and forty
second
america, given a
chance to
change
ever so often
____________________________

I Am On My Way Towards

i am on my way –
towards home, towards the light,
from cradle to grave
____________________________

When It Is Just Clear

when it is just clear
enough, we can
see ourselves
in one another. when
it is just muddy
enough, we may
see each
other in ourselves
____________________________

The Watercolor

the watercolor
that is life
as we remember
it runs,
gets lost
edges, pushes
pigments out
of place, so
that we will
never get the
ratio right –
brush to paper,
paper to sponge,
dry on wet,
wet on wet
____________________________

Perhaps There Will Come

perhaps there will come
a time when we will simply
forget to look up,

stop marveling at the wonder
of it all, immersed in doubt
____________________________

On The Road, We Take

on the road, we take
chances, racing alongside
life, shy of winning
____________________________

Weekend Steaks Receive

weekend steaks receive
more love than weekday steaks – that's
just the way it is,

time is the ingredient
that marinates like no other
____________________________

Perhaps We Will Wedge

perhaps we will wedge
levers deeply into every
relationship as

part of the natural scaffolding,
and still, be oblivious
____________________________

See The Way Glass Bends

see the way glass bends
light, pretends not to be
bothered, causes
worsening distortions,
until light bends
glass, hairline fractures
____________________________

Perhaps We Are

perhaps we are
built
to scale
time and,
harnessed
together,
your fall
becomes
my fall
____________________________

In A Few Years, The

in a few years, the
little trinkets from
chinatown will still
not have reflected
the city's changing
skyline, even
as the horizon
morphs into
something
unrecognizable.
and you and i
will still use each
other as reference
points, wherever
we are standing
and hoping
for the best
____________________________

Several Bites Into

several bites into
sunday, we will
suddenly
wish to slow
down, savor
every sunday
second, in our
eyes, in our
ears, melting
too quickly
on our tongues
____________________________

Perhaps Home Takes The

perhaps home takes the
longest time to bloom, holding
back for years, even

decades, before suddenly
revealing itself – here i am
____________________________

At The Corner Where Summer [Aug 30th]

at the corner where
summer sees fall just arriving,
she pauses, debates

turning around, finally
concedes, returning fall's wave
____________________________

Perhaps There Will Be

perhaps there will be
vegetables we
will never
grow into,
regardless
of how long we
stay on the vine
____________________________

When Summer Retreats

when summer retreats,
we can grab our paddles and
chase after it for

just a little while longer,
and then still, even longer
____________________________

Perhaps We Are All Castaways

perhaps we are all
castaways, dreaming of a place
that will call us home
____________________________

In The Fine Print, It

in the fine print, it
states that before,
during, and
after, we were and
are and will be knitted
together by the
universe, so that
how we each live
off the land and
water affects
the other,
whatever touches
me touches you
____________________________

Anniversaries Come

anniversaries
come and go, in between, bound
together by love
____________________________

The First Day Of Fall

the first day of fall
tastes like something perfectly
charred, golden crunches
____________________________

We Come Together

we come together
with and without reason, like the
planet, revolving
____________________________

The Golden Age Is

the golden age is
always a fairy tale, between
those who remember

it for us and the stories
we sell ourselves to survive
____________________________

Every So Often, Wander

every so often, wander
to a place that resonates
with home –
allow it
to recharge
your systems for
awhile longer
until you can go home
____________________________

The Struggle To Be

the struggle to be
fully human and to see
that others are full-

ly human plays out over
and over – do we ever learn?
____________________________

The Sun Brushes Through

the sun brushes through
a city's skyline
with the same
comb as it does
newly turned autumn
leaves, making shadows
dance as we lead
and follow from one
place to the next
____________________________

Along The Way, There

along the way, there
will be markers for you to
color in the signs
____________________________

Tucked Here And There

tucked here and there on
our shelves, a collection of
differences, trading

secrets in the dark, learning
to live with one another
____________________________

Nothing Is Truly

nothing is truly
symmetrical – time warps one
side or the other,

in smoke-filled rooms, behind closed
doors, indiscriminately
____________________________

On The Highway, Every

on the highway, every-
thing is possible.
off the
highway, the
turns are endless,
and we are
one turn away
from becoming
forever lost
____________________________

In The Backyard, The Chinese

in the backyard, the
chinese mahogany rains,
leaves gliding through the

air like birds searching for its
migration route, winter is here
____________________________

At The End, It Will

at the end, it will
be inevitable – we will
all come together,

regardless of shape, color,
the size of our pocketbooks
____________________________

Perhaps Time Does Not

perhaps time does not
only steal away our child-
hood – maybe it is

more sinister, offering
us everything twice-stolen
____________________________

We Are On The Move

we are on the move –
through tunnels, across bridges,
over highways, and

beyond state lines – unseating
our hearts for the bumpy ride
____________________________

What Material

what material
weaves the imagination,
so that it stretches
and stretches and
stretches, and
can call no
place home
____________________________

We Are At The End

we are at the end
or at the start of a decade,
leaping together
____________________________

The Structures In Which

the structures in which
we play, stretch and bend time, mold
memories, will give

us away – if not by their
longevity, then their decay
____________________________

The Weeds That Come Up

the weeds that come up
this season may not be the
ones that come up the

next – we do not encourage
it, they do not fancy us
____________________________

Shrimp Shells And Fish Skins

shrimp shells and fish skins,
leek stalks and scallion roots –
tasty witch's brew
____________________________

There Is Never A

there is never a
perfect time for
arrivals nor
departures – we
hold our breaths for
as long as we
can, knowing that
it is inevitable
____________________________

More Often Than Not

more often than not,
just around the corner is
something you want, but

still out of reach – maybe play
it safe, maybe take a risk
____________________________

Be Vigilant - Don't

be vigilant – don't
forget for a single minute
that we are all linked
____________________________

How Easily We

how easily we
spiral into control, or
the worst versions of

ourselves, believing we could
contain these minor implosions
____________________________

Starting Yesterday

starting yesterday,
the sunlight coming through the
window has shifted –

these are signs of luxury,
having space to take notice
____________________________

At The Cemetery

at the cemetery,
there is enough
new growth
to power the
most decorated
athlete, a reminder
that as much as we
receive, we will be
made to return
____________________________

As Long As We Hold People

as long as we hold
people who are not like us
at bay, we will be

less – less storyful, less agile,
less colorful, less human
____________________________

If We Altogether

if we altogether
fix our gaze
towards life, liberty,
and the pursuit of
happiness,
we won't have
to squint
____________________________

In Our Moment Of

in our moment of
silence, we
cannot fathom
the length
of injustice
____________________________

Identifying

identifying
with the haves on sunday and
identifying

with the have-nots on monday
is human, it's not either-or
____________________________

It Takes Struggle To

it takes struggle to
notice the little things, or
privilege to peruse

all the angles, or freedom
to appreciate the difference
____________________________

Though The Road May Wind

though the road may wind,
the path is always straight, or
straight enough so that

we will not remember just
how long we have been on it
____________________________

We Have More Or Less

we have more or less
power than we choose
to wield –
it's not an exact
science, but a
reflection,
a call to make sure
everyone feels powerful
____________________________

Recognizing That

recognizing that
we will never live up to
our expectations

of ourselves is the first step
to seeing beyond the fence
____________________________

With Repetition

with repetition,
we will lose our
way – it is
inevitable –
the closer you
think you are
to arriving,
the clearer
the distance
in between
____________________________

If We Make The Right

if we make the right
choice nine out of ten times, hold
us accountable

for when we make the wrong choice
even one out of ten times
____________________________

We Can't Imagine

we can't imagine
going back – as the color
starts to fade on those

particular memories, we
realize we've been lost all this time
____________________________

If We Make The Right

if we make the right
choice nine out of ten times, hold
us accountable

for when we make the wrong choice
even one out of ten times
____________________________

With Repetition

with repetition,
we will lose our
way – it is
inevitable –
the closer you
think you are
to arriving,
the clearer
the distance
in between
____________________________

Recognizing That

recognizing that
we will never live up to
our expectations

of ourselves is the first step
to seeing beyond the fence
____________________________

We Have More Or Less

we have more or less
power than we choose
to wield –
it's not an exact
science, but a
reflection,
a call to make sure
everyone feels powerful
____________________________

Though The Road May Wind

though the road may wind,
the path is always straight, or
straight enough so that

we will not remember just
how long we have been on it
____________________________

It Takes Struggle To

it takes struggle to
notice the little things, or
privilege to peruse

all the angles, or freedom
to appreciate the difference
____________________________

Identifying

identifying
with the haves on sunday and
identifying

with the have-nots on monday
is human, it's not either-or
____________________________

In Our Moment Of

in our moment of
silence, we
cannot fathom
the length
of injustice
____________________________

If We Altogether

if we altogether
fix our gaze
towards life, liberty,
and the pursuit of
happiness,
we won't have
to squint
____________________________

As Long As We Hold

as long as we hold
people who are not like us
at bay, we will be

less – less storyful, less agile,
less colorful, less human
____________________________

At The Cemetery

at the cemetery,
there is enough
new growth
to power the
most decorated
athlete, a reminder
that as much as we
receive, we will be
made to return
____________________________

Starting Yesterday

starting yesterday,
the sunlight coming through the
window has shifted –

these are signs of luxury,
having space to take notice
____________________________

How Easily We

how easily we
spiral into control, or
the worst versions of

ourselves, believing we could
contain these minor implosions
____________________________

Be Vigilant - Don't

be vigilant – don't
forget for a single minute
that we are all linked
____________________________

More Often Than Not, Just

more often than not,
just around the corner is
something you want, but

still out of reach – maybe play
it safe, maybe take a risk
____________________________

There Is Never A

there is never a
perfect time for
arrivals nor
departures – we
hold our breaths for
as long as we
can, knowing that
it is inevitable
____________________________

With Distance Come A

with distance comes a
mysterious fondness – we
are made of nothing

but hope, hope, hope – transcending
time, best interests, and reason
____________________________

In The Beginning

in the beginning,
the middle, and the end, we
will bump into the

contours of life, be tempted to
break free, tumble into light
____________________________

There Is A Jelly

there is a jelly
bean-sized wild thing tucked into
every twenty-sixth

scenario – you turn the
page, teetering on spilling
____________________________

Protecting One's Heart

protecting one's heart
requires a daily letting
go and letting in
____________________________

All At Once, You

all at once, you are
everywhere – in the butterfly
that visited the

west side, the dragonfly that
passed through the garden this morning
____________________________

For A Number Of

for a number of
days, weeks, months, or even years,
there will be humming-

birds in the backyard searching
for the lost rose of sharon
____________________________

Perhaps After One

perhaps after one
too many seasons of sweeping
away the fallen

hibiscus syriacus
blossoms, we got tired of death
____________________________

We Lose Track, Lose Touch

we lose track, lose touch,
can't find our way back to one
another, stumble

towards purpose, meander
for a meaning, hands growing numb
____________________________

We Will Gather At

we will gather at
least seven times to pay our
respects, say goodbye –

for both the dead and the living,
loss takes longer to sink in
____________________________

In The End, We Fall

in the end, we fall
like dominoes, as a result
of standing too close
____________________________

Across The Distance

across the distance
of countless shores, feelings get
clogged up, polluted

by proximate priorities –
we wait to be pulled closer
____________________________

The Language Of Time

the language of time
is mysterious – for one
full minute, we can

become riveted by every
bird twitch, a turning of the page

____________________________

Here Is Exhaustion

here is exhaustion –
the ties that make it worth your while
are the ties that bind
____________________________

Across The Years, We

across the years, we
will change the way we measure,
keep, and lose track of

time – it's inevitable, a
matter of right place, different time
____________________________

Autumn Makes Herself

autumn makes herself
known in the fabric of the
wind, bending our time
____________________________

The Day After The

the day after the
day after, we will marvel
at how easily

something could catch fire and burn,
how clear the night was, no help
____________________________

Even In The City

even in the city
that never sleeps,
you and i will be
in separate worlds,
looking down, looking
inwards, looking away,
always away,
for a reason to be
____________________________

The City Can No

the city can no
longer recognize its own
reflection on the

water – night and day, it searches
for the city it used to be
____________________________

New Friends

new friends
come and
go, but old
friends
come back
again
and again
____________________________

Memories Become

memories become
overgrown with and without
intention – the greens

become greener, weeds even
weedier – waiting to be tamed
____________________________

Sometimes You Have To

sometimes you have to
get comfortable with getting
stuck in order to

become unstuck. it's a tried
and true formula – letting go
____________________________

There Is A Ripple

there is a ripple
in every memory, it
reverberates out,

touches other memories,
sensing them to be lighthouses
____________________________

Let's Promise To Stay

let's promise to stay
golden even when we fall
through seasons of change
____________________________