number 23

I wanted to say, don’t go. I wanted you to finish your story on freedoms bred in solitary confinement and mending hearts from cardiac scraps foraged from the mysterious kindness of strangers. And isn’t it strange that you walk and talk in calligraphy that makes up for broken ink? Crooked lines feigning straight; Parallel, only to … Continue reading

number 20

I don’t believe you when you laugh And your clothes – all those people Sweat lather Mellow yellow Brown leather So many people Your saṃsāra- all those people Bijou bed Nocturnal journal Bleeding red So many people I don’t believe you when you laugh dimples split forever and half