When He was born,
He cried into the void of space,
Searching for the comforting voice of calm.

But only silence returns His call,
His tears echoing of the dark edges of the dark.

But He taught Himself to walk,
How to shape something with His own hands,
Then He made a world to answer back.

Today as I was walking home it started to
Rain. And all I could think about
Was looking up at you
(You’d stuck out
Like a sore thumb) as the rain came
Down on us; I was just saying the same
Things over and over “just take
Out your umbrella, bodoh”
But your ego
Would break
You didn't and so
We stood there at the traffic light
Waiting for the green man
So we
Could get to the MRT
Station as planned.
I'd been right.
The umbrella was indeed
Exactly what we had need
ed. And so we ended up quite
Wet by the time we got underground.
But I didn't run today.
I guess there wasn't much to go around
But still it was what I should have done.
Take it from me when I say
Walking alone in the rain is not very fun.

What's discipline?
It's walking on your own two feet,
It's taking movement into your own hands.

I will walk,
What if it's windy?
I will walk,
What if it's raining?
I will walk,
What if fire pours from the sky and the roads turn to ice?
I will walk.

I don't mind meandering,
But I prefer it with you.
For the river doesn't travel alone,
It's swept up in the beauty of the trees,
Or the glassy grains of the sand.
Whether our path is wavy and wanders,
Or straight to the point.
I will find a certain joy,
In each meandering moment I share with you.

in dishes made for food
in cups made to drink
***** hands will hold them up to block the sun

like people forced to work
to soften clanks against their plate

a stair rail forced to break
sits kindly beside it’s well
exactly almost where it’s meant to be

like mom starts her shift
beneath her wheels will turn
and turn and turn

a worn down walking cane
pushed through door handles
assigned to keep it shut against the wind

a woman limps across
with all her weight she leans
between the handles, against the creaking crane
exactly almost where it’s meant to be

like when i go to work
the pull of chatting with a friend
you feel the forming group
exactly almost where i’m meant to be
exactly almost
exactly almost where I’m meant to be

I may be young,
But I'm not stupid,
I'm not unscarred.
Who gave you the authority,
To tell me how I should use art,
For if it wasn't for this outlet,
I don't think I would be here today.
So can't we shake hands,
And understand,
Not everyone walks for the same reasons.

Want to walk around, like right now?

Well of course!
I know I shouldn't,
But I will still,
If I say no,
It's me my heart will ****.

Windy winter day,
You walk alone in the white and gray.

I walk four paces far from you,
A ghost in the snow's fair ballet.

A bitter breeze blows from the west,
Interrupted by my wispy form.

Graces your rosy cheek,
And you turn to where the winds came from.

Squinting through the blinding snow,
You stare right at me.

And for a moment I think you know,
That I am here, a winter's ghost.

Morning beach
flat calm but bright
sips with ice the winter light
glass reflected rockpool puddles
fill with tangled seaweed muddles