she got hit by a bus
that fine day he took the car for a spin.
around the block to buy satè beef noodles
from the little store in the alleyway

that night, dama de noche spilled from the trellis
a fragrant moon covered the ground
petals tiptoed the pond
and little fish lips kissed them

I'd have drowned
not for air
but for tears
and salted knees

they glanced at us with iron
a bamboo stick drew blood from our backs
you left for a dream
and us in cold water

i still buy chips
coffee beans in bulk
i give them away
buy more

barefoot
soil worked its way in between my nails
it washes off in the streams
rocks no longer draw blood

the hot sun
the cold water
a clean breath
and me

it is always today
every other time never was

i am always here
far away from you

A slow ritual of praying at her bare feet had begun on the occasion of the first time he saw her apply chapstick —
the linoleum floor wiped with acetone, her cucumber skin, sacred red, bleach white and oiled slick.
He found that it suited him to be that close to her black toe nail polish, his eyelashes lying perfectly on the glossy finish
and even as he kissed the paleness of her soft marbled skin, all he saw was black as his eyes fell shut with hers.
They dreamt of perfect oceans and places inside the piña colada glasses where nasty secrets didn’t seem all that bad.​
​
~ fin ~​
– Martha Grace Hsieh and Daniel J. Flore III

A smaller room
hand-me-down clothes
borrowed car

I've no need
for baubles
pets
cliques

I've got less
credit
make-up
options

We were born equal
but you wanted more
so you took everything away
and left me worse than dead.

With nothing left
I found
my self
my friends
my God.

So thank you.

blades of grass gather
the wind

cattails sing
of shallow rain
tremors of dragons
litter the sunlight

some carry tears
others cry away
a curl of absence
embroiled with relief

Naked,

as the rising sun echoes

deliverance. Behind a shroud,

prowling the edges of Shangri-la.

Pounces to devour sea and sky.

i can't see past sanity

    ...tick tock

    the door
    lights out
    creaking floorboards
    of dreams striped and contorted
    you, whirling away
    the night
    calling the cuckold clock

    ...tick tock

    the forest of eyes
    that winter in me
    the tracks in the snow
    bitten off by white waters

    ...tick tock

    i can't see past ignorance

    ...tick tock

    the open blindness to chances
    unrelenting sparks
    of hope faded in memory

    ...tick tock

    in distance
    torn away
    claws scratching canvas
    screeching blackboards
    hands over my ears
    to make it through
    to make it

    ...tick tock

    stop.

What of the sea,
that lends its tacit form,
as druids of the night
that heaves a heavy shore?

Might I clamor it's doldrum manner
sink to its floor and stir
lively the depths, the mines
of it's will,

bring to shallows an unbridled storm,
the waking eye,
a trembling fist
and rage to the very heart
-- the tempest!

No, when far more a soul thrives
in the calm breaths
of its peaceful sigh.