i was born from a wound
ripped open womb
i was born a wound
from my mother’s engorged womb
we left the hospital bloody
ripe with centuries of battles unsung
no museum documents
this unrelenting war
on veterans day we are not honored
for emerging still living from its trenches
we, the survivors
honor the scars of our breaking
Category Archives: poetry
i write this without a mothertongue
my paper bag face magnified
mercilessly in the looking glass.
honey slides seamlessly down my
features searching under its golden
hues for the tangle of my history—
never look a gift face in the mouth.
i drool, letting it dangle dangerously
over the porcelain—ravenously
hunting for traces of homelands
etched into the crevices of my reflection.
late at night
i wait for that magic moment when
pain and my exhaustion meet,
and exhaustion triumphs.
when i feel the emptiness that surrounds me
the hole i’m in looms
the darkness brings questions and doubts
the weight of my history bears down on me
late at night
pain and i
create and destroy
and i, the fool,
chase sleep
next time (for james)
next time
i hope i am a farm beast
born in hay
to callused hands.
with my legs under me
i stand in the grass
munching and sunning.
we lean into one another
side to side
our warm bodies
a sense of home.
sun, hay, feed
hands, brush, stroke
morning, day, evening.
quietness in the dim
stars in the sky
ground below me
i trust in life.
and when my time comes
i wish […]
if this poem
if this poem
if this poem was a magpie
it would steal your jewelry
and leave you laughing
and if it was a feather
it would glide gently across
your exquisite face
if this poem was made of gold
my love would melt it into
a luminescent puddle
and if this poem was made of fire
it would keep you warm
all your days and nights
and you […]
war
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war
i define my selves as metamorphosis, more about
frantically flapping wings, erectile
singing hymns and prayers of peace. tiny in this cruel empire, information pills
i […]
cain and abel
pieces
does not the broken
sand dollar have it’s own cracked
beauty in wholeness?
cain and abel
oh hope, refractionist
you tenacious thing
you tiny sun
you parasite
you crumbling cliff
you weeping willow
you rescuer
oh despair, generic
you blanket
you cloud
you lover
you dark cave
you heart attack
you murderer
hope,
tiny seed in me
you make me dream
in color, in hues
i cannot comprehend
you roll around
my deep places
illuminating my dark desires
baring my despair
hope,
leave […]
pieces
pieces
does not the broken
sand dollar have it’s own cracked
beauty in wholeness?
if you are under the weather and the weather is pummeling you
pain is symbolic of something.
pain is a directional isthmus.
there is a goal.
any specialist can tell you that.
you poor suffering, ignorant, pounding thing.
don’t be embarrassed!
you didn’t know!
that belly stands for an arrow
a monstrous, thrilling arrow.
the inferno of your nerves are the bridge.
pain is an unreasonable vibration.
pain is a bad songwriter.
pain dismantles syntax.
pain chews bones and brains.
don’t […]
for the child who should have been me
for the child who should have been me
oh my baby
i will touch your soft throat
it will not hurt this time
i will stroke your insides
there are no razors
at the ends of my fingers
i am soft, opisthorchiasis like you
i will never choke you while you sleep
i will try not to hurt you
we can cry together.
we cannot […]