poem: tourist

Did the man you met in Hong Kong tell you of the sparkles, falling behind your eyes? Did he tell you that souls are easily distilled into green tea, and tongues can be plucked out and served with monkey-feet and cinnamon as delicacy; that strangers will pay steep money to sit in a tight booth,… Continue reading poem: tourist

poem: the human glory of political economics

there are times when I am fascinated by politics and the rollicking play of the market is a sort of sweet drug, made into a gladiator fight between the two colored corners of this universe, rushing always into bright contact and history falling away in the process as little glass pieces for children to pick… Continue reading poem: the human glory of political economics

poem: what isn’t polite but is poetic

there is a strange boy just across from me and if the universe was titled the other direction the stars would fall drunkenly in our laps and then drip out of our too-small reach, their dying tails in my grey sweater and his wrinkled shirts. i think there is something fundamentally wrong with this boy… Continue reading poem: what isn’t polite but is poetic