Category: Original

SPREAD

After ‘Mud man’ by Chikako Yamashiro  the word spread across the town like rain. we lie, waiting to be exposed to wisdom from the heavens. we let the word blot us out, cake us in dirt; your hands, blooming from the earth like mangroves. we are tethered here, grasping at raindrop, leak, and tear. somewhere […]

my tongue is clumsy and utterly reprehensible

Photo by Max Langelott on Unsplash my tongue trips over teeth, mashes vowels into consonant, meaning trite and bright yellow like a hazard sign. it struggles to ease past past posts, a fat cumbersome man stuck in his own doorway. my tongue is the elephant, stuck in a room made of ivory, yellowed and polished, scared to make […]

5PM, 261116, Before A Family Dinner

Every time it happened you told me that it was alright. That this is how the two of you clicked, like gears in some semiconductor. And every time I would think to myself of harmless bickering, like couples did in the dramas you watched. I found it funny once, as though the more you fought […]

poem of the self after workshop

a subject lost in beard of old white men. boy bastards, us three. three accidents. don’t you get it? I want to be unknowable as a truth. lose the leashed thread. here is a map. walk it; I blank the names, distance distance.