A morning-rain has settled the dust in Weicheng;
Willows are green again in the tavern dooryard....
Wait till we empty one more cup --
West of Yang Gate there'll be no old friends.

I wait for your call
Every evening that goes by
To create a poem

i used to write about
living in lovers' chests,

hiding myself away
in the comfort of softer ribs,

not having to move a bit,
from bigger hands keeping me safe.


i dont want that with you.


make room for me
right beside your body,

i'll keep you in our arms
for as long as it takes to feel warmth,

i won't hide within,
i'll love you loud enough to fly

that's what i feel with you.

My Mind the prison.
My Heart and Soul prisoner.

The chains,
Anxiety and Depression.

My Body the canvas,
Mindful of my Oppression.

I am the light between the naked branches.
You stare out at me for answers
but this is only a slow morning
not a requited prayer
You see the birds, benevolent
and we smile at their freedom.

The worst thing in life is to come up against your own limitations and stumble, and then in the fall you crush the one person you wished to be your best for