where was the world…
Observe. Spit in his face, and he turns the other cheek. This man who is not even a doormat. A doormat is welcoming, even when stepped on. He is but the puddle you step over: shallow, dirty, unwanted, cold. Once, a part of something greater.
Somewhere, a room falls into sterility. We sit there, blank faces surgical tools minus scrub and garb. Who will make the first cut? Who can? Here no-one is the most qualified. And so, we wander without walking. I catch the butterfly, wing-eyes fluttering open and shut cases. You check your chapbook for ever-creasing lines. We […]
words that I don’t swallow come out as warbled waves that leave nary a ripple on conscience or memory. words, that leave no mark on the banks, far-flung islands. but here in my clenched-fist prayer I know that someone has seen it regardless. perhaps a fisherman? a kid skipping stones across the surface or the […]
Unwilling survivors, we strain these waters for warmth. Suspended in sea-salt and brine, preserve this moment – the lines between blue, brown and bright; driven splinters into submerged shoulders. Boards which seem to know all and see all. The scent of silence. Dread treading water. Everywhere but nowhere. Anything but everything. If we rebuilt ourselves […]
End of the queue and start of the process. Threading eye of needle, delicate contortion of self, steel embraces shoulder. Forced myself through it: square block into circle; all to find a home and throw myself into it. The wave breaks the shore, the man emulates the wave. Wave breaks shore into grain; man breaks […]
i. hors d’oeuvres le rien Nothing, naught, nil, zilch – we stopped believing in waste. Instead we light a candle and fill the table with light. ii. entrée orgie de légumes achetés en magasin Vegetarian thing on vegetarian thing on vegetarian thing. Served with a side of rice and a garnish of ash. iii. dessert […]
Months – many I have, remaining. They trickle through my fingers as shards, not sand. It fades: it commits itself to memories, it lingers. Surprise – the Singaporean man who, like the haze, comes again uninvited. He wades: against the current, grains in his pocket. Newsflash – I’m reaching the point where another fall is […]
green is the colour I shall wear today. green is the guise I hide myself with. the sun rises and I stare into your irises. what are you thinking of today? when I think of you, I wonder if anyone still remembers me. once again, the morning intrudes past the boundary of the curtain. it […]
pretending anger crouched in a corner and watched from shutter-blind teeth the unwilling spreading of a smile control. control sits in the rolling chair writing swear words in cursive. in the same room we both pretend to be uninterested and let the flames lick away at our fists.