internet poem
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The flowers on my balcony bloombut shed their petals in a week. The floor is now an aftermath. I sweep up the shredded whiteand place them into the soil.I live so comfortably well that I only have to kill once in a while.An ant, a spider. A wayward fly. Tonight I will sleep without guilt.Tomorrow,
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Glad to say that my poem, “Statistics in Search of Structure” was published recently in OF ZOOS. Check out the poem here! http://ofzoos.com/8.1=ValenLim.html
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It is a miracle for people to love each other, in spite of the fact that people are people. We are so minute and small in this ocean of want. How we part like clouds nobody watches.Is there beauty in what’s unknown?I’m sitting at a cafe, alone, watching filled-out city buses run to death. Heads
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Our issues melt away and run, like dirty water into drainage pipes. Black fishes into estuaries. When we are out of each other’s sight, we’ll be out of our minds. Flushed away and forgotten. Invariably some scum stays: stains on a manhole. Is it disgusting? For me to wish thusly: I want to know everything. What are you
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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.
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on the elevator she steps aside, lets others into the gantries first. she hasn’t seen a mirror in years: in the dark, she feels about her shape, is satisfied with being. what was her name? she knew it was a saint’s. it just had to be. in the dark she swallows even without being asked.
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i. Those fearful,distant words, these hollow,centered wishes; surely in twenty years they’d have expired. But they haven’t. Fossilized, they stay forever: pointed, sharp, piercing, true. These are facts that we cannot change. Bridges we cannot rebuild. Tell me darling how do I tie this rope’s frayed ends into one again? How do I forget the taste
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If I could, I would give myself to some unknowing God, tribal chief, prostrate bone against blood – if it meant that all of you were safe forever. To be kind, this crushing sense of love – it permeates the skin, a henna tattoo. I feel its breath, pressing down on my back, a cape
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Reminded myself not to talk to you. Not even to look. I’m always reminded that I am not Swayze – and you are not a ghost. That this is happening now. That we are not some formless clay spinning on a wheel waiting to be touched. When & how did we end up this way?
ugly stage 