Tagged: stories

when we meet, it is

when we meet, it is
like cherry peppers meeting
onions for the first

time – fiery sweet trading stories
with bewilderingly sweet
.
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because there is no

distance is the great

distance is the great
revealer – you are miles and miles
and miles away, i

am weaving such a tale, heavy
with details, just to reach you
.
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y

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
.
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y

we bump into the

even this morning,

even this morning,
i am hearing for the first
time the tale of grandpa,
bringing home
a pot of Madagascar
periwinkle, and how
his business thrived
for as long as the
garden blossomed
and his seven
buds bloomed
.
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y

crossing from Brooklyn

crossing from Brooklyn
into Manhattan takes a
bit of magic – you

stretch out all the stories, like
hand-pulling cotton candy
.
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y