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My city,
A magical place, my new home.
I came here long, long ago,
Without counting days,
But the various years.

There, on that street, stood a small shop,
Called The Last Emperor,
A kingdom of tea leaves
And aromatic coffee beans.

A modest man, the owner,
With a humble, quiet heart.
That’s how I saw him:
A bright face, tired gaze
Marked by years,
Like a lantern of wisdom
In the middle of a rough ocean

Then came the online revolution,
And the emperor laid down
His noble title.
The virtual world
Does not care for poetry.
It prefers short notes,
Recycled images,
Fast-trending tags
Without hours suspended
In pain and deep happiness.

The place is the same,
Only the name has changed.
The same owner still politely asks:
“Would you like it more bitter,
Or perhaps with a note of caramel?”

And I no longer know myself
Whether he means
The taste of coffee,
Maybe he is asking about my life.

Thoughts,
like lost words from the past,
in a Confucian style…

A homeless, middle-aged man
Often visited his friend:
The Last Emperor.
He drank hot tea there,
His radiating aura
As if from another world,
Like a Parisian vagabond.

A brief exchange of courtesy
With the dethronized Emperor,
And then he left walking tall,
Like a lord, into the street
Of a fantastic, strange world.
No one could deny him.
His dignity!

Once, as I was gazing at him,
He turned to me, saying
“Why are you staring at me, Madam?
I’m truly fine here!”

He didn’t know
That I was captivated
By his certainty,
Seeing in him a free man,
Living without fear,
As if each moment
Were eternally closed
In a small bean
Of coffee scent.
Between wave and return  
       the salt grew heavier in my hands.

Foam thinned to threads,  
       knots glinting in the shallows.

Still wet with the reading,  
       I leaned toward the loom.
I was suddenly struck with the idea that I didn’t feel anything. A certain loneliness had washed over me, and I could not talk, walk, speak, or even move of my own free will. Everything was now alarmingly still, and I could do nothing to escape it. Even the thoughts that crossed my mind were so painful to bear that I found myself trying to block them out.

Being in complete detachment from my own body, my old needs and desires seemed foolish and depraved. I did not want to see or have anything to do with the old things that brought me joy, for I could not understand, in this moment, what joy meant.

I found myself completely numb, and with that thought came another, even more surprising: that I had to stay in this unbearable situation. More torturous would have been to try to escape this weird state of mind than to actually experience it.
And I began to wonder: if I were to perish in this very instant, would I suffer — or, in the strange stillness of this numbness, would I even recognize the weight of feeling anything at all?
Trembling. Soft hits as you play with the tension
Open door surrender, I quiver
Question. Are you there?
Lost in forever, unsaid answer

Last supper hued in memory, synecdoche of candles
Hand in hand to fall asleep
Fallback guarantees I called denial
My bed so perfectly arranged

“Hey, it’s kinda cold in here” susceptible flesh, distant bone. Red strings, pink cloth, the stoic blackness all round. All-you-can-eat-buffets won’t give you peace but something to ***** is better than nothing. Ideal collisions, my straight lines and low pressures – Passion ruins all my plans. I throw your cliches out in a bouquet and keep them as a razor. Sentimental. Waiting for something to happen. Smooth flick speechless. Indefinite time and the chores undone. But it’s all so simple?! Walking in circles around the word, I-you relation, relatively. Little by little I believe ourselves in the face of what? ‘Nothing’ is stopping us. So I drop my act, you touch my skin, I call you to sea, you dance in my living water. Evanescence in pearly bloom.
And then – then the meow of a startled cat, mice scurrying to the gutters, all at once the little ants bury themselves alive, life repels life.

I love you to pieces and can’t put them together
my derivative of ‘Fear, ***’ - Magdalena Bay, who you should totally check out btw!
I remember when,
As a child,
My mum would "blow raspberries",
In my face...

She would tell me:
I would laugh
and giggle,
until the craze
meant I couldn’t wiggle
or scream, from paralysis.

I remember when,
As a teen,
I would blow raspberries,
In my cousins’ faces,
As I would babysit them
And play hide-and-chase
Until they came out screamin’

I remember when,
As an adult,
I would blow raspberries,
In my nieces’ faces,
Until they would dream of,
and scream for, wild raspberries.

I remember when...
All of that seemed not so long ago —
Hey dicksweat
You the one
What
Done
Do it
There is not a firm step in Autumn.
The snowfall of bright falling leaves
invites me to dream as I rake
them into blankets for winter’s nursery.

The anger I so often carry in my steps
surrenders to the sleepy hours of shorter days,
the gentle voice of house slippers whispering
across my bedroom floor.

This year of sterile rooms and moans
quietly disappears into the mist
of kinder memories, hot chocolate mornings
that speak you don’t have to hurry now.

So many believe it is a new year that commands
resolutions, new beginnings, but it is when
trees explode into their confetti last hurrah
I begin to feel the first flutter of new wings.
I love Autumn. I have since I was a child growing up in a tiny house surrounded by woods. I’ve spent so many years in sterile halls. It’s nature that comforts me like a prayer.
Death owns the mossed headstones
orphaned by time and muted stories
no longer spoken in mortal’s rockery.

Fallen epitaphs .... names surrender
to nature’s bloom and winter frost,
broken granite bouquets tied with wild roses.

Where pain no longer visits, peace speaks
poetry through meadowlark and aspen sigh,
souls long gone now rest as poems cradled
in the arms of Mother Earth.
Grandma’s kitchen didn’t
have room for me.
There were no warm fuzzies,
honeyed memories, or even
a space at the table.

With her smothering, mothering
of my cousins I was an end of the line,
barely know your name, grandchild.

My arms never reached nor did my lips ask
for affection…Grandma didn’t have any urges
to spoil an apple outside the walls of her orchard.

Times were tough…I didn’t get a choice
to be angry or sad…I slipped into the slot
life made for me, and was taught my first
dandelion lesson of how to bloom in drought.
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