when my mom married my stepdad signed a deal along with his sponsorship papers he brought into our house a local souvenir a shot glass molded into the shape of …
Category:
Poetry
kabayan ……..thirty-four years struggle for suitcase space ……..from the suffocating smog of a capital city ……..to the sandy slopes of an arabian kingdom class of 1999 ……..photo ripped edges blurred …
negotiates the smog and smear of my wide windows slick and smart and self-conscious across the hardwood Nobody will ever love this city like me Nobody would want to. – …
I will always be faithful to my banana cue suki Whose name I do not know Whose face I cannot place Her features dart hither and thither Slipping away from …
Fingers on a dollar, slid towards the till Fingers take the dollar with its uncertain will Fingers on a pin pad, skin to the button My skin, her skin, …
just today I reminded my parents that I only have two more months of being a teenager. in further conversation, my dad, who argued that nineteen years olds are not …
……………… Sure, I would paint my skin Into a colorless colour, & I would dye my hair Wear two blue contacts, & I would even Go for plastic surgery, but …
when i was a child i’d mistake her for my mother …..or my mother for her in the roundness of her face circular cheeks forever youthful black wire horsehair artist’s …
I play with the fire of my own truth. I will burn for the things I love. from Mahabharata I was won by a man wielding a bow. Then a …
We need to move, you, me, the dog. We need to go somewhere, a small house with more space. Somewhere where this life cannot get to us. The dog will …