Spring 2018
Humidity clings to skin like oil
Trees blur, a line drawn across a blank page
A sea of charcoal grey birds, await the future
The day grows old, each flies off, to elude the heat…
Winter 2018
IN THE beginning, God watched Woman create the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty…
The air of the atmosphere bends the light
Of the sun as it sinks to the ground…
Or, a summer once passed. A Forgotten Memory.
In the lush enclosure near
Algal star-specked water spreads…
I remember when dida fed us syllables
for breakfast, steeped in syrup,
smooth. We feared silence…
My mother infuses her emotions,
Muddling feelings like mint,
Mixing moods like potions…
Spring 2017
ALL: I come from
CI: sodden slums sculpted into the sides of the andes mountains...
my mother is the type of woman
who smiles like sunshine when speaking...
I look for what needs to be done. After all, that's how the universe designs itself.
-R. Buckminster Fuller...
So, I wonder. Who were we
when Death still lived in God’s womb?...
mama says the sun tastes better at night
of bed sheets for skin bound to boiled bodies...
Winter 2017
Hold onto your skin, the cocoon for the skeleton, we leave behind...
I had to chase her, not just a block or two, but the whole length of the city...
Deep in the forest near the gurgling brook, two species different as night and day fall prey to pride, an ever-baited hook, and nature’s right to age-old grudge gives way...
I poke the sticky little fish eggs with my chopstick; then I try to unstick and roll them off when they get too clingy on my utensil...
You stumbled onto my life, hon, fumbling all my rules...
Fall 2016
Translation of ¿Qué les queda a los jóvenes? by Mario Benedetti...
On the way home, we drove in silence sinking into the shadows of movement, carved from the moonlight of unsung promises...
she popped strawberries onto her fingers, gobbled them off, pop pop pop pop pop...
the peach settled in my palm, grass nipped my ankles, pink socks pulled down...
Spring 2016
If you ask me if I am fluent in Chinese, I will tell you my Chinese is a ghost lodged in my throat...
Winter 2016
Spring 2015
If I compared your being to the snow, Twould be an easy leap for me to take...
Winter 2015
She means for summer to remain unsung, the corrugated angles of soft blown dreams...
I figured that we could race the setting sun before the days got any shorter...
You peel off your jeans, sweat clings to them with its sticky hands...
Fall 2014
In those late hours, when nothing good can ever happen, I’m lost looking for a way to escape...
Winter 2014
Spring 2013
Before the wooden altar waits the mass of huddled subjects, meanest of our class...
Let us begin then, you and I, when morning is ripe and ready...
On Sunday morning, I awoke, at ease but foreign voices—relatives, no, please!
Fall 2012
Oh, you, embroiderer of facts, perverter of truths...
I slice the paddle through the water and repeat the pattern without a path in mind...
immersed in layers of dark, we all suffer from dripping hearts...
Spring 2012
A new land bathes in the dawn’s early rays, distant hills wear a shroud of gray...
Away with the wind, soaring through sky, that's where I want to hide, safe up high...
sometimes it takes soaked livers and three o’clock in the mornings compulsively teeth...
he sleeps smothered by dreams and illusions, blind to the natural world around her...
The lazy susan in the corner cabinet of my childhood kitchen was blonde wood...
« He is the wisest man. » my mother whispered to me as she dipped her fingers through my hair and pressed the lotus leaf wrap in my hands...
The sun sets low across the sky as whispers sound from tide to tide...