Organic enough, this finding ( Read more... )

He rose to go but felt her hand clasp around his forearm. "Hey," she said, just like that.

The television was already off; in the distance the sounds of a chiding mother drifted in to fill the hush. "Why'd you do that? How am I supposed to talk to Mrs Kang again? ... He took your phone? Couldn't you..."

He turned to look at her, found himself ( Read more... )

I'd never seen a colour like that
before her. Blue, dusky.
Whirled with white.
It made me giddy. I thought,
if I could stay with her
for the rest of what counts.
If I could. What
would I give?
That night I dreamt a whisper ( Read more... )

The day is mine to squander,
let drift the passing of time.
Indulge the whims of the body: look
at light's red inside your eyelids,
examine perched bird on a branch,
reread a book's line for the twentieth time.
Time is hoarded jealously in this city;
now arrive at pond's edge,
and scatter the sequined minutes
pooled in the pouch of your arms.

infinity hard to comprehend ( Read more... )

inward chamber surges darkly.
days like this, keep running faucets
for the semblance of sound.
arrange a canopy. plunge arms
into grasping stems,
a loam bath for the face.
alone, you can
disassemble organs,
give them to the soil.
one day a plant might take root
on your eyeball or a lung.

I watch you through the setting light
and think how we have always
wanted the sun, nest
a disk of gold in our palms.
You are that dense
drop of effervescence,
vigour and flood
cresting through my fingers.
Birthed into being, a white
net of reflection lies open
on the waves, bunch,
spread, now and then
effaced by passing clouds.

Unusually enough, I feel the urge to do one of those end-of-year posts, mostly because 2018 has been such a remarkable year marked by what would ordinarily be a catastrophic event - yet the whole table-flipping mentality it provoked has enabled me to discover/nurture sides to myself I am enjoying immensely.

The last quarter of 2018 has been kind to ( Read more... )

I think it's a pity when people actively resist new things -- to assert individuality perhaps? Delineating individual boundaries; this is me, this is not me. Afraid of lines being coloured in, losing self in the influx. When there's much to like in so many things, really.

what are you looking for, in this city of light ( Read more... )