Category: Poetry and Prose

Meet Me in Boston

You used to go anywhere,
hopped on a train,
caught a plane
to be there,
if only in the hope of a chance
to be with your girl.

Nowadays,
you don’t move,
you stay put.
Love has to find a way
to meet you
in your comfort zone.

I bought a ticket
to come as far as I can.
Even with clipped wings,
you have to pack your bag,
meet me in Boston
for an awkward hug,
for a chat over tea.

If you don’t want to stay,
just wait five minutes
to give it another chance,
to give me another reason
not to run away.

*When I can’t write, I ask for help. Benjamin Grossman helped me to write this piece through collaboration. Thank you my friend.

Your Eyes Tell All

I look into your mahogany orbs
and remember the golden honey they once were.
Time exacerbates your sorrow,
spiraling down, down, deep into darker eternity.

Always Refreshed

I like going to the laundromat
watching my sadness being rinsed
then tumble dried

As Free As a Gull

You yellow-legged creatures,
are you chickens,
or are you gulls?
I envy you,
roaming free among ruins,
bathing in ancient fountains.
You are flying free,
hovering over the city,
watching history play on.
Rulers came and went—
no one has occupied this territory
as esteemed as you.

Crayoned Sky

Before the world turning upside down
I will crayon the sky
with the certainty of tomorrow
and a future so far away
that I have no need to grow up to

Juliet’s Balcony

More than 400 years on
from the balcony
I wonder if Juliet hears Romeo’s vow of love
The once orchard garden
is now the hustle bustle street

The Irony

It is probably the safest place to be homeless.
Living in a tent surrounded by splendid and architectural beauty,
and guarded by the Pontifical Swiss Guards.
If homelessness is a caste system,
this will be on the priesthood level.

Sanity Has Its Perks

A lot of waiting
sitting on the threshold
of the old farm house
watching a sprig of lavender grow
and the relentless desire of a bee

Rain has new meanings
besides sadness and funerals
It fills my empty coffee cup
to more than enough

At starless nights
I will my mind’s pen
to a steams of consciousness
far into my dream state
remember, reframe
rewrite the past
into a new moon song

Accidental Success

We read “The Red Wheelbarrow” 
We discussed
We came to the view that
William Carlos Williams started it
then ran out of inspiration
He decided to set it aside
and go back to it later
But he never did