a sentry guard laments the day his mother went out for milk
a cool mist slowly approaches him and begins licking his boots unaware that his pinky toe is peeking out of his sock begging for a taste of the blistering wind

he stands at attention
a noice emanates from the woods at his fifteen hundred
he totes his gun on his right shoulder and begins the approach
the noise somewhere between shriek and shrill leads him to a clearing in the woods where he sees a man of not more than forty years of age speckled stubble upon his face
walking around in circles with stick in the ground

he's got that look in his eye
a mutter a conversation a yell
a symphony

of sound

peonies for the poor folk a bushel of roses for the dead dandelions for the prayers speckled as dust crackled as wood he who seeks fortune shall make do with crumbs fire overhead a love overheard this time there's no way out we litter the past we litter the waters we litter whatever is left of our hollowed grounds

if only mother knew
if only mother knew

the sentry stands at attention

he brings his rifle down from his shoulder and raises it to his face

ah yes


the garble

The pastel sky strikes forward, no longer soft-spoken
And the birds sing enchanting melodies
That almost lull me back to sleep
But with all the strength in this heart of mine
My body arises and dances with the peeking sunlight
For today is a lovely day for the peonies to bloom
Pink fluttering petals, blushing at my touch
I know they love me, they really do
I leave my home, whose color has gone and died
Eaten up by the tragedy of time
Today my sorrows shall dissolve
Tears mixed with tea
And quenches my thirst of loneliness
The peonies bloom and decorate the grave
And even if my heart pulls at me, I will not cry
I shall celebrate all that is of death and life
For no one, not a single person on earth
Can stop the peonies from blooming, oh so beautifully.

The color of the cream
As it is bled
from the cows in my dream
Also in red

Unfurling, curling,
bended, distended

A color so bright
It demands a white vase
So tired at night
Cannot lift its own face

Arranged in neat rows
Colours bursting from the ground
Such a sweet smell
All around us is the sound

Of tittering old ladies,
And boasting old men
Life is wonderful, the sun is bright
Here in the peony garden

I went to the library
and gathered flowers from its garden
to leave in the cement vases
of forgotten soldiers monuments
that they keep
in their front yard.
in that moment,
i felt alive.
it was raining.




it keeps raining.

We had hope as she closed us up tight.
Mama, will it hurt?
"Hush," on her lips and she sent ants to
kiss our anxious tears.
And she whispered
Just as we fall, so
We grow