Maybe we gofrom things like candy to things like brandyBecause our youth is like the sugar in them both:First sweet and often sought,then fermented,just sweet rot.
Blog
on storybooks
the sanctity of the fairy tales we hold close, lies in the impossibility of those places. I marvel and cherish such a utopia,because its beauty is in that I will never reach it,no one will ever reach it and it will therefore stay perfect forever.everything we touch we tarnish.
Party for the Fight to Write
I’m going to start really using this blog as a resource for myself as an aspiring writer. While I will still be posting the occasional impulse poem, I will be starting to practice my articles and reviews. I receive monthly subscription boxes that give me the opportunity to try several new brands of products every… Continue reading Party for the Fight to Write
on the royal jordanian, new york to amman
the plane lands in fields arid and emptyred in the south, and everywhere dusty, and the dead sea holds its breath, bellows under Pangaea’s plates,welcomes me home again. with every landing my stomach braced,dusty nostalgia revisited,my silly hope misplaced: the fields forget me, and I forget to forgive it,assuming always that my land also sought… Continue reading on the royal jordanian, new york to amman
on rainy mornings
Or when the sprinklers come on at night,What of the snails that trudge into walkways?sliding sludgy, retracting in fright all to bask in the drippy droplets or noisily, crunchily catch in my shoe, or sometimes.. sometimes even safely make it back across, all the way home dragginga nature trail of slimy snail snots
About my religion
I am all sun worship, Heat and fertility and rain dances, Spirit servant to beats in my hips that leak down, rolling my ankles to Bedouin drums Composed to the rhythm of mama earth and her earthquake steps. My god lives in waves, Of the ocean and heat variety, My god lives in throbs, Of… Continue reading About my religion
on papa
and all the men my heart has fluttered about,on the space you take up when you’re here,and its imposition when you’re not. for papa who i pray knew nothing thenof the inside of his body, and all its thriving rot, for you who shook the wanderlust into my(your) long leg bones…for you who branded me… Continue reading on papa
On sleep or not sleeping
There is something solid and safe in his frame, And in the early morning when I wake and he does not, The nook in his outstretched arm calls my name. Roll, slide over into sanctum, just some ligament and muscle he’s got. Warm, steady heartbeat, even his breath, a languid afterthought. For all that I… Continue reading On sleep or not sleeping
On my honor
Sometimes it’s hard for me to see religion as anything but history’s longest massacres
On sharing
I guard my loneliness fiercely, It is the only thing that is only mine.
Garbanzo Bae 