My poem, “Chilled Soba,” has been published by Kikwetu: A Journal of East African Literature. I am grateful to the editors for accepting my poem.
Poem Up at Kikwetu: A Journal of East African Literature
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Category Archives: Poetry
November hymnal (12)
Jeff Schwaner’s “Hymnals” illuminate my shadowed days. Follow along. You won’t regret it.
November hymnal (12)
That day the house hit my brain with a piece
of its basement it was like I finally saw death’s
name. Like death was revealed as a real person,
someone you’d asked to see if the right size
shoes were in the back and who disappeared
and never came back out but now here he is
years later, he’s cradling this box in his arms
and he’s close enough so you realize he must
have an actual name, he’s not the devil or any
supernatural thing, he’s just the person who will
put on the shoes for you, you’d better sit down
for this, and when he leans down to fix the laces
there are more people behind him, an unending
line of all the people who’ve been helping you
toward your death, from before you were born
up to the last face you will see. I…
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Scarecrow Replies
Scarecrow Replies
This talk of destiny and exceptionalism and the incessant
push towards terror inflames my metaphorical innards.
Birds may kill, but they don’t practice genocide and never
erase history’s missteps with published falsities; their songs
remain true. Not so with man. What grows importance is
not what you hold but what another has in his grasp, no matter
how tenuous. I think of water and how some would charge
for the right to drink, or withhold it from those who cannot
pay. And air? Whose breath defines the dollar? Or the fear
that a distant neighbor might receive a benefit that you
neither need nor desire. Crows claim territory but roam
with the season, adapt as necessary. While they may provoke
curses in their wake, their damage is temporary and they
don’t poison for profit. If I could leave my post what station
would I accept? Having shared my days with sky-bound
friends, how could I choose another? They sing and swoop
and cooperate among the winds, taking only what they need.
They neither hoard nor covet. They steal but don’t swindle.
Their wings lift no grudges. Even gravity respects them.
“Scarecrow Replies” first appeared in MockingHeart Review in May 2018. Thank you to editor Clare Martin for her generosity and many kindnesses.
In Praise of Chiggers
In Praise of Chiggers
And the others
feasting unseen
upon you,
offering their
blessings
of digestive juices
and anticoagulants,
allergic reactions and
reddened mounds
made pleasurable
by your fingernails
scraping the skin
around them, over
and raw, again,
again, it feels
so good!
“In Praise of Chiggers” first appeared here in August, 2017. We’re past the season now…
Haenyo incident at Hallim Harbour (sometime after lunch)
Daniel Paul Marshall strikes gold:
“(Asian carp?) leap out the pristine waters like
a good idea which granulates into fuzz
before you have time to write it down…”
And the discussion on similes in the comments is like a bright torch in a dark well… Sorry, couldn’t resist.
Saltwater
Saltwater
What if you close your eyes
and your throat relinquishes
the morning’s bright
fingers, freed from bruises.
Suppose that particular night
never happened, the way
a wave crashing ashore
empties itself and trickles
back in separate communities,
mingling yet aloof, a
diminishing cortege. What
is the question? Take this
spoon. Fill it with saltwater.
Upend it into the pail. Observe.
“Saltwater” was first published in Nine Muses Poetry in May 2018.
Morning Suizen
Morning Suizen
Boundless, it sips direction in the way of all music,
tonguing each note for its salt.
We call this ecstasy. Or peace.
Follow, and they still escape, always beyond
our outstretched fingers.
Exhale slowly. What do you know?
That long tunnel, ribbed in silence.
The scent of burning cedar.
Days framed in darkness and birdsong.
* * *
Note: Suizen is the practice of playing the shakuhachi, the traditional Japanese bamboo flute, as a means of attaining self-realization.
“Morning Suizen” first appeared on Nine Muses Poetry. Many thanks to editor Annest Gwilym for taking this piece.
Election Day Poem Up at Vox Populi
My poem “The Theory and Practice of Rebellion” is up at Vox Populi, nestled between Daniel R. Cobb’s essay “Democracy Dies without You,” and Naomi Shihab Nye’s powerful poem “United.” Fellow citizens of the USA, this election will change our lives. Vote!
Until the End of the Rain and the Sudden Demise of Endless Rainy Nights
Jose Padua, one of my favorite poets, writes about loneliness and the broken world.
And I was waiting at my local dive bar
for a woman who never showed up
and the longer I waited
and the greater the amount of time
without seeing her face at the other end
of the swinging front door
the less I liked my friends
the less I liked my bourbon and my beers
and instead of leaning on them
I just wished I were somewhere I could be alone
which if I remember correctly
is what I finally did though
I had to go to a different neighborhood
where I didn’t know anyone
because these were the days when I knew
so many people and so many people knew me.
One night in New York I met a woman
whose parents came from Asia like mine
and she was in her late twenties/early thirties like me
but she was already a widow
and she worked at a…
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Poem Up at Formidable Woman
“Dead Rose at 5 Points Local,” a collaborative poem with Stephanie L. Harper, is live at Formidable Woman. Many thanks to d. ellis phelps for taking this piece, and for offering the prompt which set it in motion.
O at the Edges 