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Literature
Bulul in the Midst of Change
The wind whispered and caressed the land. The night was filled with the symphony of crickets and things. It was music within the dark of the mountain, echoing, bouncing against the rice paddies that looked like the stairs of gods that made their...
Hometown
Here the seashore stores
The footprints of strangers
And stories about the oceans
Like nobody knows until now
where the first wave came from
And open secrets of ancestors
Like the tryst of the sea and the sky
But only eyes from far away can see
Eyes
Dusk
The sun bleeds as it dies. Magentas, crimsons, lilacs spread across the sky. “A variant of the riddle goes: A pair of yarn balls / that can reach the heavens.” I skewed the metaphor. You say it doesn’t matter. You like the slant...
2 poems
Prelude
I’m scared of this masterpiece,
how I painted it so perfectly
with every bit of green and blue, sewed
to a threshold of fragmented doors—
a tapestry of thoughts, where everything is new.
I was drawn
to a morning so sullen.
From the wooden chair in...
Madonna of endless linen
Our lady of one day at a time
Our lady of veils allowed to droop
Our lady of the thrice-revised corner
Madonna of postponement
Madonna of a thumb in the eye
Our lady done with these pulling at my ears
Our lady but a tear in the equipment
Virgin of...
That male thing
“Come in,” he said in response to the five steady raps on his door. There was a soft squeak as the door opened to let in a waft of the shimmery perfume the woman was wearing. Lawrence Gaston, Director of the St. Francis...
