we pickle turnips

when we cross paths, the

when we cross paths, the
recognition will not be
instantaneous –

more felt, less remembrance, waiting
for the joy or pain to subside
.
20230207:1941
y

autumn in new york

getting out of the

getting out of the
city looks like a day trip
off the island or

stepping inside someone else’s
dreamscape, unnamed entities
.
20230205:2106
y

great-grandmother hand-

great-grandmother hand-
bound exquisite swatchbooks for
the village. we took

it for granted, stashing them
until they slipped through our hands
.
20230204:1944
y

mama’s gift

mama’s gift
that keeps
on giving –
a box of
japanese dried
anchovies – for
every dish,
every occasion,
ready to be
crunched,
not counted
.
20230203:1714
y

things are less prickly

a new month arrives

maybe symmetry

maybe symmetry
is overrated, we lie
awake at night,
counting the minutes
up and down the
hours, dreaming
of a balanced diet
.
20230131:2021
y

even as we branch

even as we branch
out, we will revisit our
roots, yearn for something

we have long forgotten, can
no longer feel the contours of
.
20230130:2048
y