Two Movements
I From the terrace before six I see a train crossing, Three cars long—“That’s it?” Passing in no time at all. I linger for the evening commuter; longer, heavier, humi... Read more
True Blue
Elvis isn’t dead. He lives in Kitchener, Ontario, on a bench outside the grocery store. “One for the money!” I’m always tempted to say, as I dump a pathetic amount of change into his blistery ... Read more
Skin Color Pencil Crayon
As a kid who loved art time in elementary school, I’d get psyched and messy with vibrant colors, textures, and liquids. So much so that I barely noticed the glittery yellow, blue, and pink that stai... Read more
Three Poems
Untitledmy mother is a pile of dust between two bricks unable to be condensed to a finer powder she sleeps in her ashtray next to the cigarettes that numb her I walk through the door just make a good ... Read more
Quezon City, October 1, 1975
Everyone is watching two men bleed in the square. i. They’re leaning on each other, heads on the other’s shoulders. The referee pushes them apart and the mouthpieces fly into the air. Granddad, th... Read more