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Eventually her eyes –              tungsten lights – burn black and the sky            is black and the           grass black. I feel the                      moon its whiteness on a face glinting dew. I mistake this place                                         for childhood. And you are,               back against the asphalt, because  you want to be,          whenContinue reading “crayons”

all I ever wantis to hold our time like hands cupping warm water.without ticks or countsor noiseless breath between. but always the water passes through the gaps so we drink itand pray the body will hold it long enough to be unforgettable.

they say you walk with the windthe way trees dance to stormsand only birds hold your armssincerely.It’s true. All I see is grey blue skythrough the square of my windowand that soundless dance. I was therein the church with the grass floorwithout the walls without a white man.My jacket sleeves covered in burrs taking whatContinue reading “*untitled”

Faucet water envelopes my hands,and reminds me how easily life slips away. I think Graspis a beautiful word.It escapes my mouth gently, yet somehow it still means to seize& hold firmly.Maybe graspis a word meant for love?or temporary possession. I grasp my hands under the faucet water.

Eyes fixed on the rubber toecap of my sneakers.Tapped on the shoulder by light through treetops The canvas grows blacker,socks heavier.Colder.Autumn leaves pressed against the soles. I kneel just like that andthe usual occurs, I walk back home with wet feet.The thoughts of what’s left usleave my mind. It’s fall again old friend.

I swapped things around my bedroom again moved the bed, replaced the desk dusted everywhere, cleaned the floor so well you could lay down  and see every corner clearly. When I finished I closed the door with the back of my breath against the wood. There is a slow knock, a steady sound that passesContinue reading “Touched”

Our eyes are slashes across our faces sometimes it is almost in a violent sense. Her cheeks remind me of mesas in the summer mainly for their color, layers and cracks. I’m slightly relieved she beat that white guy’s ass. 할머니 I have one in LA. I was writing about you when I read severalContinue reading

Like any good friend we sit on bed sheets un/noticing how she hides beneath them, knees to her chest black hair like a broken mask we know well.

11/25/17 she was lovely I-miss-you post-it notes and letters, a hundred missed messages, phone calls and emails. all over the walls, she left them placed them stitched them into a red scarf she will never wear. 12/9/17 The notes are gone and the house a catacomb she wanders in the night. found her once feltContinue reading “Notes of my mother”

Last week, when I came downstairs, my bags all packed for winter break, I saw my mother sitting in one of the teal swivel chairs in the lounge. Her legs were crossed and her face still as the snow clinging to the edge of those big windows. “I’m ready to go.” She didn’t respond. SheContinue reading “Winter 2017 North Dormitory”