Tagged: asian

inside each waiting

inside each waiting
are small sachets of seasoned
waiting, provided

principally as a source
of comfort, preservation


we don’t go out of

we don’t go out of
our way to not have
black friends
you said.
i got out of bed this
morning and pulled on
the white narcissism
as white guilt
robe, not
making me any less
yellow. i am going through
photos from last night’s
mardi gras party and
commenting on the
homogeneity. from just
inside of the outside
looking in, are we
simply cleared of
racism by showing up
for all the protests while
toasting to our own?
as a card-carrying
the lines blur while
the gears in the well-
established system turn

by the water’s edge,

by the water’s edge,
holding it in is still more
noble than letting
it out. you show
me this by way of
example, the centuries
of men and women –
fathers and mothers,
daughters and sons
friends and lovers –
who by day held
their struggles
humming within
the palms of their
hands and by night
plunged them into
waters as deep as their
breaths, coming up
for air, whispering
only into the gaps
between the stories
that were meant
to be told, passed on

between model

between model
and model
is a gap –
we are trying to
fill it with everything
we know, everything we
experience, everything
that comes our way,
plagued with blind spots
perfected by society

you are watching the

you are watching the
latest martial arts darling
in asian cinema, something
enigmatic, poetic,
reserved, i am wavering
between accepting and
rejecting myself for not
being as intoxicated,
enraptured by this
exotic intrigue.
there is a fine pretense
between belonging and
not belonging, i can’t
solve for the variables
while holding myself
at arm’s length

in the drawing room

in the drawing room
before sunrise, our piano
is picking up your
darkness swallows
the translation, but
the influence
strikes memories
out of my sleep

home is an east-west