Wednesday, February 28, 2018

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

they exchange vows and a tale

A kiss. A photo of you two kissing. Eyes shut.
Your tux was urgently fit. Her dress was properly cut.
 She wore glasses, you told her she's always beautiful but would she mind removing them.
Just for a picture, for the value of the memory.

She said yes, but not when I am kissing you.
As in, not now, I don't want to let go yet
as in, who knows why things can get  rushed
because there is a limit on the minutes

like outrunning your own life.
you said, I won't go. Not now
not before I take you to the beach,
plant a shell in your hair, so you will continue to hear

my voice. No longer terror,
comes in a low song about a star that went all the way
to find you. A kiss. A photo of you two kissing.
Eyes shut. your tux urgently fit, her dress made to be one for the days to come.


This is the punishment of the words
they seize to come
when you need them the most

Sunday, February 25, 2018

How many young girls?

How many stories of young girls
would I have to see
bleeding, without power to speak
before I shout?

a hand, a city, a symphony

With this broken hand
I will play
the city's unspoken symphony

Winter cleaning

To mop away, the blue hour
the leftover soap not in dishes
this is the warming spring
creeping over the last bits of our winter

Room for regret

The truth is, I knew I could have lost you
but was sure of it the moment I saw your hand
slip into another's-

unexpected, that I cry again
for a love that was buried ten years ago
under the roses bushes, behind the swing

exact locations of these memories
where we kissed last,
before we knew how to open our mouths

where we whispered
a secret long know to the adults before us
a universal truth

the truth is, I know I have lost you
by way of never once having you
why then, is there more room for regret now?

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

A murmuration

it comes with negation
the way of the murmurations of birds
like a loud song and a soft meaning
we deny the reasons we are afraid
of the dark, of each other, of being the sole bird that leaves the rest
murmuring alone by the end of winter

Eve follows her Adam

For E, for comfort

Eve left, you tell me, in the bustle of the night
followed the Big Dipper into the north
but I missed her, you said, keeping a fluffy pink blanket next to your bed
sleeping companion, Eve ran after her Adam
who begged for food and was on a constant move northwards
the red door lays waiting for Eve, you say
I can hear in your voice the shake
that Eve must have followed her master

Eve returns, you message me,
with a bruise on her left arm with ash over her eyes
must be love, I say
or else why would anyone be covered in soot
ash to ash, door to door
like an old question mark, curled for an answer

Eve left again, you say
I deduce, she followed her Adam
ran after the Bid Dipper and disappeared
somewhere under the great night sky
you will keep the pink blanket, waiting for her to comeback
but sometimes when we run-
we cannot look back.

verbs: remider

There are words about us
little children, unable to speak
to express our anger during the years

read and follow our launch here:

folding the night

It folds the night over
in the city
the music


Here lies a collection of all the years that passed
since I started holding a pen, or typing what was in mind
it keeps growing and has been with me longer than the years themselves

longer, I have kept you
than analog and digital formats of rolled-film cameras
than the times I decided it was easier to let go

longer I have kept you
than the faith that I have lost and regained
than the clothes that I have worn and given away

longer I have kept you
than the flight-time between the axis and the point of origin
than the longings made over cereal boxes

longer I have kept you
than the times I thought my friends were made up from love and hate
than the education I received in the daily

longer I have kept you
than the anniversaries I have made in my head
while I sat with folded table clothes and beaten jeans

longer I have kept you
four years to be exact, I poured into you words
then you gave me a scene off a high skyscrapers
an understanding that transcended even my own understanding.

Saturday, February 17, 2018

this is the history of the lineage of women

This is the history of the lineage of women before you
those who were refused by mere being of age
of a certain skin darker than yours

this is the history of the line of women before you
ones who didn't talk about the lining of mistakes
over jealousy like butter and jam

this is the history of the line of women before you
who stood tall in heels
even when they preferred to be sitting

this is the history of the line of women before you
who never got a chance
in the first place to think deeply about the ways one loves

this is the history of the line of women before you
who failed at saying their mind
because speaking in a certain tongue chaffed at eogs

this is the history of the line of women before you
who realized they will become lessons
to the women who came after them in bold marching steps.

Keep guard of the words

Keep guard of the words, my grandmother said
for the words you say roam and come back to you
in other forms, carrying a similar meaning.

A lazy Saturday

Rain has sneaked into your dreams like an old song
tapering over the little things you lay out to sun-dry
coats, misspellings, containers, clothes hanging high and low
you scrape it up, stop complaining about the water
then sit, with fuzzy slippers and old pajamas
watching the same old series run over and over
love scenes, kisses, empty dreams
you light a candle to break away from the dark clouds
lay tucked with the music surrounding you
while you make a composition of the noise and notes
this is a lazy Saturday where you combat all the things
that make you feel alone, all at once.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

wisdom in everything

There's wisdom in everything
he says, the man who never learnt to read
gives me an example of the bees
how honey flourishes from their insides
how the sun moves from East to West
how the little worms create bacteria in the dirt
there's wisdom in every living thing,
there's wisdom in your heart
how it beats to keep you moving
even when you don't want to stand still.

missed communication

There's a reason why the phone is silent tonight
you had tried to reach out when on the other side
the sun was sleeping


The bare notion
that inside you enough ingredients
to make magic

on a young man's departure

His mother's lap was warm
as was his fleece covered bed
but not the wooden box he's lying in now

Saturday, February 10, 2018

A war on your doorstep

As war approaches
I don't know what is worse, my childhood memories 
or what it carries in its belly 

longing for the country

let my country banish me
I need longing
outside of its fangs

Verbs That Move Mountains

I owe the honor
to find my words printed before me 
talking about the lines I write, here: 

Edited by Claire Tervien, printed by Sabotage. Details on the launch to follow soon. 

conversations made with fingertips

Like an ax hitting a wall
I mine the chance at a conversation
that happens over the continents
with the tapping of fingers

History, repetition

History repeats itself as a lesson, you said
History repeats itself as
History repeats itself as a
History repeats itself as a lesson
a lesson that keeps coming back to crack you open

History repeats itself as a regret, she said
History repeats itself as
History repeats itself as a
History repeats itself as a regret
a regret of the things no one could have done, even after trying

History repeats itself as a chance, he said
History repeats itself as
History repeats itself as a
History repeats itself as a chance
a chance for it to stop from turning back on its own head

History repeats itself as a lesson
History repeats itself as a regret
History repeats itself as a chance
it keeps repeating itself, history- keep paying attention to the patterns.

You, a floor and a beat

The positioning of your legs
on the dance-floor
is the only meaning I take out of the rhythm.

It is not a joke

To be rude, to make a space where a comment should have been
to be senseless to those who work under the sun
to make way for the hate to fill the places in you that should have been met with a smile 
to make a choice based on a lack of knowledge
to jump into a puddle without questioning the direction of the rain 
to make things lighter by using others as bait,
it is not a joke to cry on force, because someone else needs to smile. 

Saturday, February 3, 2018


the number of hours you give to silence
for it to give you back, bodies of light

taking a step forward

lead me not behind your steps into
the realm of your opinions
or ones I made on my own
allow me experience to judge the lesser
between the two evils.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

I wait

The days pass this month
I wait, like always
for a bird that's flew north without informing me.