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Poetry

Indignation as Elegy

An elephant without a face greeted me on Facebook today, his trunk and tusks hacked away by poachers eager for ivory. At first I thought it was a watermelon sliced in half, mistaking the pinkish blood for the pulpy flesh of succulent fruit. Why bother to extract excessive teeth and risk being...

Two Poems

ELEGY I am trying to catch the best of Life as lived with my grandchildren I am trying to comprehend death When I see humans good as dead As a sudden explosion transforms A house of healing Into grim inferno of the dead and the dying And wounded children wailing Desperately looking For...

Along the Astral Sky

For that one person that I never met,why does my heart feel so shallow?you take a huge portion of my soulyet somehow we never crossed paths. The whole universe stops when I imagineyou making dreams better than all realities.Two entities dazzling in the void...

Gantsilyo

Yarn, like stemsWinding around a steel bough. Shaped into something different,Gloves, a scarf – a present
For your absentee mother. Stalks pulled apart by tensionWith lasting curls,
Never returning to what it was.

Planting Season

They start when the sunlight isstill soft. They wear their sarok, farm’subiquitous item. From afar, theylook like banana plants that sag at the weightof their bulky fruits. I can’t fully hear theiroccasional conversation. Maybe they talkabout fixing their lone radio, which spurtsout nothing...

Bloodsheds on the Rainbow

Delivered from the lights of heavenand strolling earth with the likeness of Godsuppressed by society’s sanctioned sinsconvulsing norms and gospel’s grounds Mother of many but with no wombhands are dainty as the flowers in Mayholding the bodies on the bloody paradeFlags torn down on...

Random Pickings

After the Rain

I used to hate rain. My heart would trembleupon its arrival.Announcing its comingwith grey, dreary,and foreboding skies. I used toclose the curtain,draw the blinds,close my eyes,and...

Patterns

The chisel as creator Lends shape to wood, to stone. Shape being the truth of character, Reality of body and bone, Sculpted fact of form, The confidence of matter. The...

Of Science, Of Fate

Frost eyes stare into the layers and layers underneath. Rotate, adjust, rotate, adjust. some eyes are made to look at what’s under miscroscopes and see the dinosaur-old cells within barely human humans.   Cold hands...

On Sundays…and Belonging

On Sundays and belonging,And when I used to mess around with Lolo’s typewriter:Clicking and clacking the worn-out buttons, it is legacySounding against my stubby...