47 Years

(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

happy birthday

i wonder what you would make of all this madness
i wonder if you would feel like you are missing out
i doubt it because i have a feeling that in your heart
you are sitting with all of monet's colours at giverny
i doubt it because i have a sense that on your tongue
you are tasting the sea and salt from normandy
if you were here now we might be sitting in the sixth
drinking dom and chewing on lemon after oysters

Happy Birthday Papa

For a moment this morning when I drifted from sleep to wakefulness, I thought what it might have been if you were still here on this earth. I thought how it would feel as an adult to have a close connection with my father. Thoughts as these give rise to ideas that make me feel that I should be a writer full time. That may happen yet...

Meanwhile, happy birthday papa.