Wind in our faces
As I pedal high
While you watch the houses
And - Oh, Hama Sushi! -
Pass by
I'm sorry,
I whisper,
If you drift off into night
With just Mommy
Daddy nowhere in sight.
Mommy has you at night
For those six hours
But the mornings -
Oh, the mornings -
They are ours.
Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 8:06 PM UTC
Your hands remind me of hermit *****
Fingers fat and tiny
Curling inwards into your cuffs
Shying from the world and the cold
But blossoming to grasp at joy
To grab at a slice of bread
Or point at an excavator.
As you turn a year older
Your hermit ***** will move into bigger shells
And they'll start to reach for bigger things
Like pencils and books and controllers
Or perhaps ball into fists of rage
Or splay out to throw ***** and high fives.
Some day
These hermit ***** nestled in cuffs of linen and silk
Will open doors and sign contracts
Pluck strings of guitars and hearts alike
And hold its own pair of hermit *****
Even so
I hope they'll still fan out to hold my hands
Warmly and tightly as before
Though they fully enclose mine.
Oct 19, 2024
Oct 19, 2024 at 10:54 PM UTC
Sometimes,
I wish
Time would just
S T O P
For a second,
For an eternity or two,
So I could make this moment
Of fragile perfection,
S T R E T CH
Just a bit longer,
Before the brutalities
Of life and space
Come crashing back in,
Stomping on our delicate
Silent symphony.
Oh, for but a moment.
Jan 2, 2024
Jan 2, 2024 at 12:40 PM UTC
the moon dances past my bedroom every night
g l i d e s
across the cloudless void
yet
sinks beneath the horizon
disappointed
again
Jul 31, 2023
Jul 31, 2023 at 10:57 AM UTC
I would freeze time if I could
Hold you fast and tight
Breathe in your scent
And watch our son
Build and govern his kingdom
Kiss his cheek and hold his hand
While he dreams of cars and trucks
And we share noodles, trade stories
Yet
On time marches
Ever so cruelly
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 11:33 AM UTC
In darkness
You see stars
-
In despair
You see hope
Jun 16, 2023
Jun 16, 2023 at 10:16 AM UTC
When your footsteps start to sink
And birdsong falls deathly quiet
When your breath starts to fog
And the snake's gaze greets you at dusk
Follow the lanterns
When fewer stars come out each night
And the sky smudges with the void
Every new moon comes in shorter intervals
And infant cry echoes from the woods
Follow the lanterns
Follow them through decaying towns
Through arid plains and foggy swamps
Seek them out in heaving crowds
And the choking smog of cities
There is always one nearby
Amidst the darkest nights
Or the coldest, crushing depths
The screaming heat of midday
Soaking the highways and byways
A lantern flickers on for you to find
Even when the rain turns acrid
And cats jump into lakes
Your spouse drives daggers into you
And the very walls swallow your voice
The lanterns will preserve you
When the baker speaks riddles
And the pages bleed into waves
The village ***** prophesies
And rebukes the high priests
Find your silver cord through the lanterns
Cling to them
When you sleep to vultures' lullabies
While your skin itches for a razor
Or wine starts tasting sweeter
And sips turn into gulps
Follow them through vale and cliff
Snow and drought
Seek the lanterns' warmth
Until your shadow returns
And ale tastes bitter again
When the sands finally shift
And you bathe in dappled sunlight
And the robins' song graces you anew
Remember the lanterns
Lest the frost takes you unguarded
Long may they guide you
Through doorways and cave mouths
From hamlet to palace
And keep your golden bowl unbroken
For many winters to come
Pursue the lanterns relentlessly
Fiercely
And perhaps one day
You will plant and light lanterns
For your sons
Jun 16, 2023
Jun 16, 2023 at 1:54 AM UTC
Beautiful dreamer
Lying in the waters
Tell me your visions.
Of phantasms of dead dreams
And former lovers
Crying to start over
Wilting chrysanthemum buds
In autumn rain
Blossoming in a swan song.
And when you're done
Look to the horizon
Impatient with lightning
Angry and pregnant
With new dreams
And restored promises.
The Land of Waking
Has awaited your return
To your rightful helm.
New frontiers await your conquest
Abandon your turgid wishes
Seize the present with both hands.
But the blossoms will never end
Water your garden
After your ****** battles.
May 13, 2023
May 13, 2023 at 8:40 AM UTC
That's a jumping spider
I told you that it wants to be left alone
But still you persist
Because who can resist
Its lilliputian beauty
So exquisite
So fragile
And it would certainly meet doom
At your equally
Exquisitely
Lilliputian fingers
I spare the spider your brutal curiosity
Like how I wish
Life would spare your innocence
From the groping, grubby
Fingers of this broken world
Ignorant to your transcendence
This filthy world
Eager to offer you gilded trinkets
In exchange for your radiance
Pure joy unsullied
By the taint of human guile
It's foie gras to them
Though there are higher things
We are called to
I'll show you
Oct 20, 2021
Oct 20, 2021 at 11:56 AM UTC
I wonder,
If you were still alive
At 104 years old today,
If you would have been proud of me,
If you would have liked what you saw.
You knew me as the toddler
Who insistently took your hand
Before crossing the busy Chinatown street,
But not as the awkward teenager,
Anger simmering beneath his acne-riddled face,
Eager to prove his growth,
Trying too hard with his vitriolic rants,
Neither as the young man
Floundering about in his twenties,
Dissipated on intoxicants,
Groping about for direction,
Pining for a woman's companionship,
Nor as the married man
Who had attained independence,
Having found a way in life,
But now longing to regress to boyhood,
Sublimating his regrets in bad poetry
Scribbled between issuing memos and contracts.
Just what did you see in that toddler's future
As he waddled across the bumpy cement streets
Dappled with horse manure spilled from kalesas?
Did you see a man with broad shoulders,
Employing hundreds and feeding their families,
Making a tidy profit week after week?
Or perhaps an academician,
Erudite and eloquent, a debate juggernaut,
A far cry from his forefathers' humble beginnings
In some fishing village from Bumfuck, Nowhere, China?
Or did you just hope
For your grandson to retain his heart
The same one that prompted him
To take your hand as you crossed the street?
I still think of you at times
And wonder how things would have been
Had you been around,
If you would have bore our valley days
With your trademark stoicism,
Anchored father with your presence,
And have finally reined in
Grandmother's bladed tongue,
If we would have eventually shared
Your daily quart of brandy
After weathering with ascetic patience
The sound and fury of idiots.
How you would have seen
With your own eyes
The clan flourish and increase
In members, clout, and material wealth,
How you would have sat
Stone-faced but proud
As I took my steps to patriarchy
And started my own tribe,
Albeit with someone outside our race -
Worse yet, a descendant
Of our colonizers from the war.
(I wonder how much convincing
How much yelling from father
It would have taken
For you to relent)
I know I look back too much.
I guess there are too many unexplored paths,
Too many phantoms who remained acquaintances.
Or maybe I'm just like father,
Habitually framing the present
With the context of the past,
Always romanticizing the bygone
With the wine of sentiment,
Though reality would have been harder, drier,
And we needed the magic of romance
To make reminiscence palatable.
Thirty years have decayed my memory of you
To but a reconstructed charcoal sketch
But it does not make me miss you any less.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 10:20 PM UTC