living across timezones

When death comes to receive my flesh Will that death bell give me options?   Will I know how to make that choice? Central time will be practical, least disruptive Pacific time will reflect eagerness, a rushed closure Eastern time could be interesting, night falling sooner Indian standard time is a wise idea, map my

The game of sharing

Sharing is a maze You are either in or out There is no in between   You may choose to be a hermit Sharing from and with the universe There is no out once you have signed up   You can agree to be a lover Sharing possibilities of adoration  There is no fitful sharing

Duryodhan in confession

I stepped into the front of the confessional face red and shaking hands, frail   abandoning guilt;trying to balance changing future with my formidable past   the bloody rush of a reckoning with myself, ran through my veins   life in bookmark, still hesitatingly halted at the page of eviction   their lingering departure, my

seagulls in dreams

whites afloat with momentous ballet moves screeching sounds of freedom songs salty wings frolic into a magical loop ordinary, alone I look and walk along with life force seagulls chase those freckled waves under a lusty sky, watched by anticipating windows time settles at the bay, and I poke at worms crawling into graves sea

1933 – 1945

(beauty is inside out)  Notoriety is in layers six million lives, looking back 70 years (heart sees what is invisible to the eye) Body reveals what it consumes gaunt carcass frames even before being dead (dance like nobody is watching) Walk each step as the evil eye stalks concentration holes plagued by hawks (true love

Spring at Eiffel

The blooming gold greets my nervous eyes. Hesitant, I turn towards you, iron laced and tall. My face feels the wind and you no longer are a snob, a lie. embraced by an invisible mist inhaling incessant spring I find myself in your shadow You surprise me with your easy presence. I touch you for possibilities.

Coexistence

A. My birth land presided over by chatter buzzing streets with humans colliding into each other like poorly punctuated sentences B. god beneath gods temples within temples mosques beside mosques alleys inside alleys C. choc-a-bloc with colors, crayon stubs, faded pencil shades hoarded wisps of pigments dyed wool in a basket from many lives worth

cross legged

my younger self bowed her head to the spirit reflecting what purpose it served dependence on an intangible power fearing loss of all that I thought mattered wishing for exhilaration of love recounting failures not comprehending acceptance sitting cross legged, my older self opens a notebook of thoughts before starting to scribble and I motivate

bowl of bloody spells

for man to be blessed always needed girls to be trafficked young and naive, to the goddess service she was tricked forever at the altar of the pii and the decimal a feminine body has been submitted to conditions abysmal ritual of dark, feeding religious joy for centuries   drumming priests, initiate her to the

two sides to every story

Me, carpe diem’ she was about presence discovered sighs and smiles through her children accumulated persistence as a way of being collecting newness, with every transformation vividly committed, compliance received in inheritance enduring the liveliness of daily life normalcy of motivations surpassed any cynicism daughter to children of a disruptive migration made her the custodian