i spend a lot of money on flowers.

give me a minute to explain myself here:

every saturday morning i wake up early.
hours before work.
and most times, minutes before the sun rises.  
i’ll shower,
put a very small amount of effort into my appearance,
(because it is morning).
(because who really cares anyway).
and i’ll drive myself to the markets
that wait approximately four songs away from my house.

i won't be there for long.
(i am never there for long).

i’ll pick up some treats
for my dog (who was not thrilled with the early morning wake up)
as an apology for the interruption to her sleep.
and then i’ll carry myself to the buckets of flowers.

i’ll stand there and decide, for a few delicate moments.

i’ll ask him for ranunculus.
i’ll tell him that
i like the way they open,
and how delicate they are,
and how a single touch can have them falling apart.

he’ll agree
tell me that ‘softness is beautiful’
(this petal he gives for free)
and i’ll store that in my pocket until i need it.

i’ll think about how
i can not control much.
but i can control the flowers my vases hold.

so what i am trying to say is
i’d spend any amount of money to be able to hold something.
to be able to say,
“i chose this.”
instead of letting something be chosen for me.

color
blank
color
a white sheet of paper
to some,
intimidating
to others,
an inviting canvas
sharpies lined up
in a rainbow
hand picked
and thought out
by ink-stained hands
blank
then a line
what a miracle
the marker is
to create
with nothing
but the turn of a wrist
drag it along
with your rainbow of colors
and create
perhaps a red penciled rose
With few of blue
and thorns of green
or maybe
a cerulean sea
turquoise waves
white froth
emerald turtles
and golden sand
or possibly
a boy
with ashen hair
and icy eyes
rose petal cheeks
and baby-soft lips
create
something beautiful
colors
and dreams
create
blank
create

The festive season is here,
And shoppers busy on their feet,
Are looking for bargains
At every corner of the street.

The lantern-sellers stand,
Right outside the market square;
Trying to entice passers
To buy their curious tinsel ware.

If during this time, you chance
Upon this bustling way,
The sparkling lights and lanterns
Are sure to brighten up your day!

Some of the glittering objects,
That decorate the stalls,
Seem to mesmerize the shoppers
As they step into the malls.

Articles of myriad colours
And lanterns that disperse rainbow light
Decorate the city streets
All through the joyous night.

I rushed to the market square
To see what I should buy
And found a brilliant lantern
That caught the fancy of my eye.

I made a quick bargain
And now that lantern adorns my door,
And it really dazzles me
When it mirrors in the floor.

Sewer stained,
The street, the pavement an so to
Soak the shoes
Born torment twice and a recurring
Tap upon back;
This slipper, a signature
Succumbed suicide,
Slaughter,
An only sorrow
But lash shared millions,
To tread paths beyond barbed
And a sooner return to my
Land, or its maker –
Wards and shop,
Sweat under, sweat atop
And browed, be the animosity
As I swagger my way through
Haizhu's faceless crowd.

This is the assumption of Arcadia.

Or so she’s said and she’s right
As I witness the
Hunched backs, sea pearls
Stained-bowl rice, bow-legged dreams,
The denizens
And if only to stagger,
Come 12 more hours to shelter,
Simply shelter
And a dread named, “day,” come ‘morrow.
It’s real, as real as the sun’s rising,
As real the sun’s sweating
And as real as the sun’s setting.
So onward they go, meager and dollar
Driven, under whip and promised avarice
So that as guilty as I may be;
I’ll still buy, you will too,
He will too and she will too;
We’ll buy and assume our “Arcadia.”

Ripening fruit

muffled on quiet days,

the wind walks down empty rows.