slate clean

  You'll soon wipe the slate clean   like evaporated water off the sidewalk   and these memories of me will be convoluted  disused like a golf ball   left in an overgrown field but I won’t forget  even if it risks self-crucifixion     even those residue elements come back to haunt me    if it doesn't end well   I am inexplicably drawn    To her…

I think it’s okay and I think you’re doing okay too

I don't know how to begin or start writing a sentence, I merely start writing waiting for inspiration to fall on my head like an egg and for the egg yolk, the main substance, or protein to come out. It seems to me that must of our sentences are so self-contained and our medium is so limited, yet…

The shroud

foot step fell into a hollow room  dim lights crawled out from the corners   shrouding shadows behind   wrinkled, fold on fold   a lazy lip tried to move wordless,  paper-thin voice escaping came out like a croak   asking, pleading, repeating   denying  asking if he could walk   eyes, a fish tank half-full    Doc spoke in a loud voice  and blood…

some illusive time   like ribbon stringing through the eyes of a needle  underwater  the koi fish ate all our dreams in a single gulp   and the thrashing of our feet   hanging loosely over the cliff  such the moment is lost in an mosaic   and crowding all these memories    is the inaccessibility of our own library   because we…

Dad’s Broken Heart

My father is having open heart surgery tomorrow. They are going to replace a valve and clear up blood clots. Whether you are religious or not, would you pray with me for him. 

Sufjan Stevens on ‘Tahquamenon Falls’ :"We went with Cassie to pick pine cones at the falls. She gave us each a paper bag and cotton gloves. These were the small cones, little burnt rose bud cones, from Hemlock. We weren’t allowed to pick them off the tree. This would be stealing, Cassie said. We were…

Missed Opportunities

Today was filled with missed opportunities. Most of my teachers sped through their lectures and every time I tried to give some input, it seemed like they had ear muffs on. Even in group discussions, I couldn't get a word in because someone would beat me to it. It was like a bad game of…

This is a Mirror

 I think our generation's personality is realizing the sombre reality of life post-9/11, the failed idealism, and a nostalgic reality of an idealized childhood. We joke about a romantic view of life, of hypersensitivity to other religions and beliefs. My friends and I oscillate between down-right shitty moments of life, and poking fun at the humanness of ourselves. We easily laugh, and we…