sometimes the earth flies away from me
drips through my fingers
slipping like thick honey into cups I have left out for too long
too many handled mugs on the counter that I confuse them for
confuse past with what is now

I as I wake try to shake this dream of something that never came to be because I
would love to pour my morning tea into along with the wildflower honey into a fresh cup

Three people paint the subway station with life
the horn announces that the next train is coming bound for the seoul

You look at squares photographs of people
as if they were isolated drawings of a dandelion or a primrose
you take the person and disconnect them from the root
from the dark soil and the sunlight that grew them into beautiful blooming
beings
you study their exterior
look at them as if they were peeled carrots
peanuts without the shell

the black & white image measured in distance only by the ticks of a clock and the cycles of human life sits on my chest

all the gentleness and love cannot be measured by digital clocks nor can a heart
for its growth is limitless

it as if we disappeared
our hands never making it past the hanging  veil
voices muffled by cloth
20 arms stretched forth holding in a cry
worker’s limbs, your daughter or sister
racing heart when they shouted out of pain
they could no longer stand

When labor too pressing too demanding stood in front of them a well dressed  smooth talker and asked politely for just one of their fingers
they again screamed

Life is here in the dust that falls over my masked face
It is here on the small damaged earth
you handed back to me as if you had simply borrowed some cheap 99 cent rubber ball
I ask why it’s so *****
you answer “ “
It’s surface soiled but  in it less flowers bloom

I ask you how you will mend it
Tell me your rides here your carpooling with your mom’s friends

that you will try to help but that I
Should figure it out

(But you borrowed from me all those who came before you)

We chew over a small wooden table
Chew bell peppers and drink old fermented tea
wonder how many more breathe until the stomach stiffens in regret and says
no more to all the veggies we must eat before they spoil in our fridge

We chew the small thoughts and the big bad memories tucked in the thinnest most transparent of thoughts
so translucent it took us most of our  lives to recognize them as just thoughts painting boxes, stacked to create an obstacle

We chew playing dalgona with our minds
trying to keep the only the portion of through a we want.

We chew and concentrate and then there are no thoughts, just the veggies I stir fried to sweet from the wild flower honey