Thursday, July 31, 2014

Sorting out

I sort out summer days
by pages, one page is for the dust piled books
One page is for sunshine cupped inside two little palms
One page overflows and drips water and the final page is
blank for the night.

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Timely letters

part of a longer poem titled Timely Letters

I receive your timely letters
each Thursday, after mass
unstamped, unopened
in them parts of days, moments and dried roses
I always write back, though at times my letters pile unopened.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Unabiding Tongue

We stopped watching, stopped looking
the moment we decided to open our eyes
around us, darkness
no power, no heat, no water,
no sounds from the sea, our neighbor
We look up, between the breaths he calls
the cloak-draped, thin brass arms are too familiar
We've seen them once before, escaped them and ran
he calls us all towards it, the emergency exit ,
Death roars and calls again, comes sharp
like teeth biting an unabiding tongue.

Monday, July 28, 2014

The N speaks






A definite yes, to all possibilities

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Raised from the dead

She feels for the gap between my ribs
for a breath, she feels for the flesh- alive
her hands, my mother caress my head, curl my hair
and wail, she wails me, a bird nursed back from death 
raised by Thumbelina's headscarf, she tied it first, thrice around my shoulder blades
tightening the grip in the hole winter dug,
then Thumbelina, smaller, her face white and her eyes yellow from lack of harvest
took me under her hair, sang me a lullaby to raise me again, once more from ash 
folded me carefully and presented me to my mother
her gift after long hours of winter, of a winter in the dead of June. 

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Like a blank

You fill me like a blank,
love, like an indentation in a page,
leave me ragged, love
Sometimes you pluck me, young
like a rose, you leave me withering, love
catch me once, love
free me with the back of your hand
like an old sock out of a drawer's corner
Lo     ve

Friday, July 25, 2014

fire breaks

Talc powder puffs in the sunlight
it is warm after a bath
after tucking into a rain of steaming water
a rain of fire and fog
but the gunfire starts, 
starts low into a speedy labor
starts high into little pauses,
She brushes her hair, 
she brushes the roots taking the thoughts out
sprays on her clean,lean hands talc powder
the TV is blasting
she recites a verse
the fire breaks
baby starts to cry
fire breaks
baby grabs a noisy toy
fire breaks over her
baby squeezes life out of the toy
toy wails, screaming for life and fire breaks in
fire breaks out
baby cries again, 
fire breaks and Nina doll lost its left arm
baby cries, fire breaks, she breaks, baby cries,
fire breaks, she doesn't break anymore, baby still cries loudly
then it  all seizes and fire breaks
the silence 

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Between two teeth

Catch the hem of a dress,
between two teeth, sow in a button
Chew on an apple,
at the back near the molars
Clench onto the secrets before they slip out
leave them hanging, caged  like a wild tiger inside
this is how other people use their teeth
we, we use our teeth differently,
not out of cannibalism, or fierce love of leafs
in our front teeth, they shine, gold plated bullets
stopped, right before they are sent for the brain
to explode.

worry lives other chambers

The jasmine never smelt so strong, 
the night has never been so long
And so are the days, dragging inwards 
But at least worry lives in another chamber. 

Monday, July 21, 2014


Jump into a pool, wait for the splash
drive, wait for the gear to hold you
fly, wait for the arrival
there's always anticipation for the little,big things in life

Sunday, July 20, 2014

out of area

Mashed into the ground, wounded, hurt
these are images that became too much for innocent eyes
at least some remained in place while others became
mashed, wound, out of area

the me I see in the mirror

There's a me inside my eye, she smiles an looks
there's a me I see in the mirror, she does things the me inside my eye
only dreams on long summer nights

Saturday, July 19, 2014

woman wrapped in a uinverse

Nothing comes between a man and a woman
other than a child, a house, a matter and death
and nothing comes between two men
other than care, money, looks and the company of a woman.

Friday, July 18, 2014

personal naming

My name is like me:
short, duo-syllabic and free
but unlikely noble
too noble, too kind

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Grief is a newborn

Filth piles uncleaned, 
dishes are unwashed
the hand evade the mind
There's too much muck here
muck is grief,
My me. my grief is a newborn's cry.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Joker in town

The joker wears a crown
heads to the center of the town
only to pull a skull out of the grave 
contemplate misery, then become world famous.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

modern family

The portraits hang on the wall
one by one, together yet apart
they only meet when the cleaner removes the frames
for the annual clean-up.

Monday, July 14, 2014

A grit lined wheelbarrow

'so much depends
a red wheel
glazed with rain
beside the white
chickens.' William Carlos Williams 

A whole house depends on three wheels
on a rusty wheel barrow, lined in grit, 
glove-fitted for the launch of  the season
settling beside a wrinkled, ever green tree

 but much more depends on the aged olive, 
rooted since the begging of time
placing platefuls on the makeshift box turned table.  

A longing wears my grandmother's shawl

The sun doesn't rise earlier than her, my grandmother;
she sees the sleeping flower buds yawn
collecting rainbows in a leather pouch she hides
 beneath her breast
 the birds, God's messengers are always fed.
(Parts of a longer poem) 

Saturday, July 12, 2014

mirrors of silence

Death is the only point of passing
beyond color, beyond meaning
beyond all words so when death hits
the only pieces left are broken shards in mirrors of silence.

Friday, July 11, 2014

National flag

They always said red is the mark of life;
red is birth, red is blood, red is death-
There's red in my national flag
but the red rivers can no longer be restricted by
the three rays that make up the singular triangle;
It stretches and swims
it drips over the other national colors.

Thursday, July 10, 2014


Between us lies a thin crisp wooden plank
put there carelessly like a blank reminder of woodwork
of possible craftsmanship we develop into a
bench for the childhood memories
I still seek long car rides and story reading
and ice-cream sundaes on Sundays
things I never find
But the plank lies there, untouched
We could have made it a library shelf
for my growing introvert to feast at its own leisure
since libraries require no more than one person
with a set of eyes and an open heart
but we both walk it, that plank like a runway,
we walk the middle tipping balance for respect
we raise our hands in respect,
we hug for the sake of respect
and we part in respectful reverence for how
we developed and the plank remains raw
we still wonder, unsure yet knowing
This piece of wood could have made a beautiful table
A table for the evenings and for bird-watch
A table for the time of adults: times of beer, barbecue and breath
I could have carved that table into existence with my nails
but  why with the wood carving tools available?
 in the trunk of your car, hidden the tools are set
coming and going
up and down  they move further from
the places we lay our wood.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Rabbit Burrow

Small fur, clean white
it runs, hopping, skipping the white stones
and fades beyond the tiny green bushes.
Swooping near the bushes I give it my hand
It burrows inside of my palm,
carving a way to the wind and slush of rain
Peter Rabbit burrows in my heart
to find his blue jacket
 before it runs beneath the fences in fear
of getting caught for loving lettuce too much.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

near the lake

Wordsworth town
Head to crown
A flock of bird flies ahead
and Dorothy sings jubilantly by
the edges of Windermere
competing with the morning robins.

Monday, July 7, 2014

Ashes on the Holy Mountain

The trio walks at the instant of dusk
between crags, half broken earth and the morning due
the road is long
the road whines
the road unwinds into
Four trees at the foot of the holy mountain, draped in olive trees
it is a long way till dawn, it is a long way till the fire side ceremony unleashes
The steep uphill climb is hard with more
limbs than one could count
carried near the hips,
the muttering on bare, relentless lips does not recede
burn, raise hell--
in the hides, no one but trees can tell.

 in the corners of the dark
the frail body abducted, deduced to fractions of a being
it kicks,
it fights for air and for a flight
It screams back to the home nest:
I have not had my breakfast yet,
I have fasted till the end of the night
I will not accept missing the morning prayers
five kneels and rise, five kneels and thanks, five kneels and

a blow bellow the stomach captures
all the feeling left from the half breathed
body the trio unleashes,
it was never a human- always a body
down dew wet earth, between the forest--
In the low buzzing light
they turn, raise their hands east
to unite before the feast of fire
In prayer before the breakage of dawn
 uncovering all unholiness on the holy mount
May we be shrill, fast and avenge

they have bore blood before, stained between their
fingers and knuckles, it still strains though two thousand years old
They have made of  God a mockery once
in the name of treason, in the vicinity of difference
and now difference is the same, it is all a big cycle

The three crows lit the fire,
set the blue t-shirt, the smile and the faded jeans along
nothing stands the marks of fire on the flesh
the streaks it leaves like grilled chicken on the once white arms
keep to ash from the blaze
no one watches the fire burn
no one smells the crisp of body and agony of soul
but once the day breaks, their footsteps break loose,
further into the day like a cannibal ceremony is only a part
of a dreadful accident--
forgetting that above them, someone always sees
and bellow them the boy seizes to cry or flight
and on the holy mount they depart leaving a boy in ashes
you are dust, son of earth and son of man--
ashes to ashes
ashes to earth you will become
and forever your name will live
and forever the nation will spark fires that wipe out the areas
from rocks to ashes.

Trail of light

Careful when you follow a light of the pitch forks lurking in darkness Darkness lives just a little at the corners of light
Like two lungs gasping for one long breath.

Friday, July 4, 2014


I watch for behind the screen as you
bleed, holy white blood over water
I look into you but cannot see you
I cannot touch your holy face, or smell your earth
I am only a spectator and the show goes on
and onward without questioning
and I still watch as the sky rains fire
once more.

The rose

Today I went and bought you this
The child said, holding between
thumb and index
a carefully, perfectly red rose
I've been carrying this, he paused
I hope it arrived safely,
just for your eyes to see
Mama, hold it
smell it. Please don't let it die
feed it water. feed it love, he implored
and ran into the evening sun.
Mama smiled as she held the rose,
smelt it, felt it and fed it water drenched kisses,
the red, nylon and plastic rose.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

in longing

when the sunshine pierces you
and when the smell of earth reminds you
of a million lost boys, of rage, or of beauty
Press onto your sores, smile and enjoy the memory
with its every shade of color, taste, smell or little tortures
A moment will never repeat itself twice.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Carry me

I wake up to
the morning prayer-
Four plastic beads run through my hands
I chant
Carry me to your high walls
Carry me to your holy lit face
Carry me to safety

Where have I gone?
I never lost my foot before
my hands no longer grip
My ashen face, blurred eyesight do not promise
an easy explanation
I last recall
It was a bend near the road
Between the dough smelling morning baker
and the glistening twilight
instead of the sun, darkness descends once more
Carry me to your high walls
Carry me to safety

and when the darkness descends
It seems I met with a blaze, I met with the morning flames
 my body receives a living cremation
The beads roll, each sprinting into a different direction
North of the walls
east of the holiness.

I can see my mother,
ripping out her hair, wailing
my sister couldn't stand on her two feet
now they- my father and two young brothers
draped in darkness, void of human color
carry me
to the high walled, marble based tower
bellow soil
they all wipe tears as they
carry me towards your holy face
carrying me to the hands of safety
by the vigil of candle light, a sprinkled rosary
and the evening call for prayer.

dream baby

sand the pig, 
thunder she saw, sand in her upcoming birth
Three birds and a thoughtless brick goat
Jumping around, hoping on a soft meadow
The world was drowning in the storm
It was just a case of colorless sand
with no thunder to birth
Nothing to deliver 
it all flashed
before she opened her eyes.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

the Pier

From the stars to the void
The dollars  ring empty
empty to the woman dangling her head
Off the pier.