Tremor Teller
intonation seeker
information wrecker
restless, mindless, corpseless beggar
hopeless ender
formless bender
broken token, bone winger
terror fire’er
chaperone shaker
calamity master, baits occupy hater
Good Bye My Dear Old Friend
Let’s face it
Nothing is cruelty free
Especially when that bitch on Facebook
Piped up and replied
“This reply to your reply is cruelty free!”
I see you Sistar
I can hear your mockingbird tales take off
As quick as my daughter’s father could get
Himself committed.
Summer Over
City fun in the distance
in the still humid air
with some light moisture
left from the morning.
Artist's life
I'm your worst nightmare.
I'm leading the life you were dreaming of before you settled.
I'm living the dream you buried when realizing it could come true.
The dream you fear so much.
The one you never could stand in reality.
The one you’re still fascinated by in your hidden chamber.
Li Sao: A Ghost Story (a chapter of a work in progress, entitled Ge Meng)
It was not a secret that Professor Bai Hua favored our gang of four students over others in the class. On the night of the Lantern Festival, as arranged, Bai Hua waited for us near the bike racks. A dark gloom had overtaken the chilly winter air. “Shall we go to Fuzimiao? I want to show you a flavor of the local Nanjing culture,” he said.
In the southwestern part of the city, Bai Hua bought us each a paper lantern strung on a stick. I lit my lantern, and it glowed a brilliant red. Anya and Bai Hua each had pink ones. When she smiled gleefully, Bai Hua looked at her. My heart twinged, as if I’d developed a small crush.
LEMONADE
When I was about 12 years old, there was this other black girl selling freshly squeezed lemonade in my neighborhood. She was selling each cup for $1. My dad gave me some money and told me to buy 2 cups of lemonade from her. So I did (even though I wasn’t thirsty, wasn’t particularly fond of any drink aside from water, and it was also rare to see my dad drink lemonade). But I did it. I went up to her stand and bought 2 cups.
INNER VIEW
Yesterday, I woke up in good spirits. I had an interview Downtown that I was feeling pretty good about. It was a corporate interview so I did my best to dress corporate. Black slacks. Button up. Navy blue tie and a gold tie clip. Nothing fancy.
Some Things You Might Need to Start Your Day
An egg yoke
A dollop of white sugar
A broken scissor blade
Double palm strips
Coconut oil
I stare at painted ceilings
I stare at painted ceilings, I stare at parting clouds
Confined to thoughts of interchanging forms
Your skin and cheeks when you walked through my elementary school doors
Determined to not let sickness stop you
Warrior goddess—Mother
Fat Bellied Pig
It stung that day
to overhear a woman complaining
about a fat bellied pig
to another in the park
as I walked by
"Our Lady"
Somewhere the bell tolls yet the Lady stands so tall
She stands the test of time as a testament to us all
Wars have come and gone but she never seems to fall
She welcomes one and all in defiance to a border wall
Nkyinkyim
Sometimes, I stop. I know I shouldn’t, I should keep moving, head down, eyes down, back down, hunched, picking and pulling. But sometimes I need to stop. I see you in my mind. Tiny and warm. I remember kissing you on your forehead and holding you tight to my bare breast. I couldn’t give you anything else. There was none I could give except my body.
On My Ex-lover’s Birthday
Every day is an anniversary of something.
The longer you live, the more there is
to celebrate and
to mourn.
Cherry Blossoms and the Delta Cotton
The mockingbird builds her nest in the tall oak tree
Singing her song, always so happy and free
Back and forth she flies never stopping to rest
It must be safe, it must be the best
Some City Birds, Like Immigrants Also?
Like us
from foreign shores
Seen as far as Asia,
and Trafalgar Square
Dovecote culture in old Egypt
Others followed the grain.
Some assembled with
indigenous black birds.
Collection of poetry - "When" - "The State of the Union" - "Futures Will Collide"
When the winds blowing from the north are warm, no longer cold.
When stories that were passed around campfires are seldom ever told.
When freedom isn't for all, on trading blocks our rights are bought and sold.
When youth have no reason to believe, so quickly they grow old.
Review of Eve Packer, Foss Park: Poems
Eve Packer continues her photojournalistic exploration of New York (and her own emotional interior landscape) in these spare, eloquent poems. Many of the poems have dates, and some are even time-stamped, giving the impression of journal entries. In this way Packer marks events in the news, the seasons, the deaths of friends, and the closing of mom-and-pop businesses with a nod to the passing of time—a reassuring constant when so much else seems to be in flux.