Bamboo, Bride of The Forest Bamboo, bride of the forest the cymbals of winds & your fine many knees ripens with the autumn’s mouth.
My Heart Is With a Woman The last time I got into my body, I left a strand of hair, a fist full of joy, and the back lens of
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I Talk to a Friend About Heartbreak While on the Third Mainland Bridge Watching the Waters “I do not know if I can bear this pain,” he says. Pain
I Want This Place to Feel Like Home it’s September and I burn to be part of the world growing out of a cockcrow. there is no earth between
Conversations with the Sea How do you dress the wounds of history, or stitch the scars of a race whose ancestry you have swallowed with your
Homecoming If a day comes when you are served love like a noxious meal that evokes pain draws blood leaves scars If that day comes I hope
the years & what do we do, plagued with this knowledge that we carry? liken ourselves to the dusk that bends earthwards as light springs in
Homecoming After a quiet walk through a deserted neighborhood, Ummi tells me that the dried bloodstain I’d seen bejewelled across the
Alev In a thunder dimension of a new alphabet She is the present tense, An astonishing revolutionary reality Of my burning Nijinsky. Her smile is
I Dream in My Mother Tongue heavy with foreign dialects, my mouth keeps faltering at making enough river of words to marathon into my mother