(for Tata Chau)
It's been 47 years yet it is yesterday
For her. A rose in bloom crushed.
What is left, a stalk of thorny memories.
She mourns her brother, still.
I trace remnants of his presence.
A father departed before I arrived
as the quill scratches wandering thoughts
(as he might have)
in scattered strokes in each of my sketches.
October 21, 2013
Friday, July 05, 2013
Thursday, May 02, 2013
Wednesday, May 01, 2013
Friday, April 26, 2013
It's the fog that belies the Spring day. I wake from strange dreams involving strangers and distant places, a manor, a castle, preparation for a feast, children. All things that are possibly as distant to my reality as one could get. It is my mind in wanderlust perhaps. It is the wanderer in me reconciling reality with the concept of what I desire perhaps.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
the coffe is slightly bitter until
the sweetened condensed milk
comes through then
I remember to take a moment
and savor awakening before filling
my moments with the promises and
demands of the work day
I remember the simple beauty of
her foot sticking out from the covers
then I remember to take out
the baguette dough to warm and
grin at making bread later in between
slices of work while so many others
are staring at the walls of their cubicles