If not writing codes,
I am writing poems.

If not writing the language of computer,
I am writing the language of literature.

If not writing the language of the mind,
I am writing the language of the heart.

colorful paint
on a blue canvas

    runs
    down
    in
   strings

crossing borders
   & languages
flowing into hearts
   & minds

   slowly
      at ease

the bottom end
   of the canvas
   is not
   the end
of the message
          *
          *
          

My biggest fear
is that I will someday be 61
looking back on my life
as an imposter in a body
I don’t own
that I won’t
have stretched the skin and
scarred the cracks
or let the sun into my retina
I fear I won’t have drunk from life
as one drinks from a waterfall
part of a beautiful cosmic rushing
that only exists to **** you.

I read the numbers on headstones
and count the warning
that my life exists as a dash.
I have pocked my face with dots
so I’ll exist as morse code after
I’m gone
so that the synapses in my
alwaysthelightson brain
will sink into the soil as static
and evaporate into the sky
where I’ll live as lightning,
striking the tall boreal pines.



I read thunderstorms
to speak to the dead,
offering prayers of roots
and bloodshot eyes.
I can hear what
they’ve been telling me
all along
deep in my nerves
we’re not alone
and
we’ll be ok.

Train the girl child
That she may know her ways in time
And find her path in time
That she may give to the society
For every girl child has a right
And that right must be sensitized early enough

*Educate the girl child