Aligned with vanity,
So much disappears
That holds hope;
That leads thought;
That blows away.
The dust knows not
The wind nor the ground -
Making peace with each
once, in a while.
Can it be my soul?
A foot on the rung
That Ascends,
Temporal to eternal.
Or, the heart of faith?
Firmly grounded in perspective
Greater than a day.

How shall I be?
Who am I now?

The heavenly voice
Engraved on my heart,
Shall ever be
The place where my soul
Is firmly cleaved.
And I shall be revived.

"My soul clings to the dust;

Just a little something to tide me over



Once you fall behind on payments to

the birthday-loan folks

they take your time;

first hours, or days,

then you're in hock to high school

You remember your girlfriends'

names, but

which one did you marry?

Are these really your kids?

Was the girl you took

to the motel last night

the same one you took to the bar

at 5, or to the volleyball playoffs

when she was 17?

The hadedas scream
Overhead
A man on his bicycle
Sings
The breeze is a river
I’m a rock
Splitting, parting, heavy
Water erodes me
The clouds are stained
The bird completes this song

This is how it breeds.

A rural priest rolls and throws out the wedding mantras. The ritualistic ululation and the music of a toot and drum warm the monsoon up. The bridal garland like a noose awaits a bride’s neck. She bows her head in rural Indian coyness. Our groom learns to forget all beside the glitz of dowry gold. A burning wick yields to the darkness beyond the nuptial rhythms. The froth of cheated love runs down Miss Hema’s chin. She is stranded on the bluish eternity, along with the pressed love in her womb. An opened phial lies on the floor of a hut, showing its void up.

Memorial Day my neighbor, his big feet in sneakers, hobbles as fast as he can across the street breathless with news. his mouth seems huge to me, he keeps mispronouncing my name jerking his head up the street as he almost screams: John is dead.

Now, I decide
to live in the moment,
like one enlightened.
I linger by the Paulownia, watch
petals fall to the gravel
in the arboretum.
Still, I think of what I have to do.
All pink antennae and glazy eyes
in a bowl, the prawns need shelling.
The door is ajar –
there's one of those fast, impossible-to-catch spring flies.
A shaft of light reaches into the kitchen
like an arm –
I move through motes of dust.

I move through motes of dust –
like an arm,
a shaft of light reaches into the kitchen.

The warmth of the blaze overcame my grieving face,
As the figure of my sister was engulfed in flames.
Everything she was and meant to be had been erased.
The crackle of the fire seemed as if it were mocking my intense pain.

Pearls of sadness rolled down my cheeks,
Leaving behind a trail of sorrow and despair.
Watching her body burn left me feeling weak,
When I was supposed to be strong, this has to be a nightmare.

It felt like the world stood without motion,
Excluding the blaze of my sister in front of me

Even if I fail, I want to be a hero I don't care if the world laughs at me and calls me a psycho Those who are awake are the most absurd Pretending that love and hate are easy, but who can really be at ease Drunk in a meadow of flowers, too many poems lost in dreams, forgotten Using the excuse of intoxication, to dance under a sky that never darkens Is due to a heart worn out and battered by emotions How many times must we drink, before we won't get drunken How many times must we get drunken, before we're not afraid of darkness A heart as troubled as the vast, turbulent sea, yet standing

I lay beneath the heavenly wisteria canopy,
as the mockingbird scolds scattering squirrels,
The loveliness of spring,
Dreams of youth,
long ago laughter of sixties' children
that ripple the water in the bird bath,
O, the romances born amidst springs' blossoms,
Rainbows in the sprinkler's water,
where are my parents, my siblings?
They are lost to time.

Nineteen sixty four,
wearing my Mouseketeer ears, 
Disney show on Sunday nights,
freshly mown grass fragrance, 
I weep to Lady April
as she caresses my face with a newborn's breath,

A love where no other takes it's place
B rothers and sisters-in-arms, we hold you high
C onstant in the battle's terrifying face
D on't ever forget the blood, for eternity is nigh
E verlasting honor to them, my God, the war torn soldiers sleep in You.