Sunday, February 01, 2015

ode to a broken heart

It's broken: I learned
It hurts: I cry

Sitting in the Kazakh sunshine hungry for vitamin D in temperatures so cold outdoors they murder my spirit after dark. I remember you joking about my bird's nest haircut; taking the piss out my contemporary-hippy hairstyle.

 I missed you today, similar to past days, yet time is healing aloe on the brittle sunburn of a broken love.

 The sound of your voice mocking the BBC- the voice of gravitas; My head on your naked chest wondering how that irregular heartbeat of yours kept you alive day by day, beat by beat.

 The "I have diabetes" prelude before stuffing a doublewide Bounty chocolate bar in your mouth.

 Your muscled bum which you attributed to cycling in your youth clad in black long johns firm and round to the touch.

 The kind and caring things you did for me like lending me your flashlight for the dark descent to my apartment. 

  Neighbors: Lovers 

 Making fish finger sandwiches and your hallowed toaster: giver of life to breakfast. You in the kitchen; me arms around your waist. Laughter.

 The warmth of your skin; your upbeat and humorous approach to awkward situations; and your damn British accent.

I still miss you. 

Saturday, January 17, 2015

2015 January: Broad City

Sofa Poems 

I have so many goals and visions for 2015, grandiose milestones life may or may not grant, but listening to poetry is appropriate for a Sunday afternoon on the sofa.

A kiss would do it.

One sprinkle of milkwhite salt

and I'll break like bread at your table.

- From "Grassland" by Sarah Sloat: First appeared in The Rose and Thorn

Moving Poems

The Poetry Storehouse 

Wednesday, January 01, 2014

Wild Horses: I am a snake!

The year of the horse gallops in to the future: Welcome 2014.

Coal Power: Tea Kettle Heat Hutong Style

 Beijing Bus Stop: Dusk

The Vegetable Seller in Pinganli

My old neighborhood in Nanluoguxiang was quaint.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Playing Catch Up in Beijing

Nanluoguxiang Hutong: Coffee and Cats

Wednesday, April 03, 2013

Alliteration ditty-do-wop

Alliteration - Visual Poem III

Beijing, Bicycles,and Brooms-
If Walt Disney were behind his desk,
they would be dancing a
ditty-do-wop-don't stop til you drop.

I shot this photo in a pedestrian walkway beside my apartment building.
Location: Dongsishitiao, Beijing on April Fools' Day 2013
Mickey Mouse is missing unless he's whirling and twirling through your imagination.

shallow breathing

hazy breathing 
though a PM 2.5 glaze of yellow
spreading the sky and lungs and tender noses
of Beijing masked pedestrians
making their way home. 

National Poetry Month 2013

April Sneezy, runny nose. 
May please Please Me, sunny rose. 

Wipe Away Fever, season change. 
Robustness deliver, to my June! 

- I'm rhyming for National Poetry Month.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

H.G. Wells: The Invisible Man

Wearing A Cloak Of Invisibility 

If Jesse were invisible, he would go to Spain and help his favorite soccer team win against the other team. He would be their invisible goal keeper.

If Jerry were invisible, he would go to the bank and steal money and then go kiss the girl he loves. 

Ethan would push Nash forward when Nash faced Maggie- his true love.

If Nash were invisible, he would do research on how to be invisible so that he could be invisible any time.

Mike would fall in love with someone he likes, and if James were invisible, he would catch the thief to save the world. Alan plans to find his friends from middle school, but Ann would sleep in the dorm until lunch.

Michelle would enjoy free travel around the world. 

Surprisingly, Tina would be a killer. 

William would pay more attention to the people he likes, and Steven plans to take a photo of himself and send it to his blog. Charles would like to be a super-spy like James Bond. 

And finally, Cullen would perform an invisible grand theft auto in Beijing.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Slowly Ascending

This is how I feel every morning when I take the 

elevator 21 floors down, down...

THE elevator continued its impossibly slow ascent. Or at least I imagined it was ascent. There was no telling for sure: it was so slow that all sense of direction simply vanished. It could have been going down for all I knew, or maybe it wasn’t moving at all. But let’s just assume it was going up. Merely a guess. Maybe I’d gone up twelve stories, then down three. Maybe I’d circled the globe. How would I know?

Murakami, Haruki (2010-11-17). Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World (p. 1). Random House, Inc.. Kindle Edition. 

About Me

My photo

What do I do? That’s a question with more depth than the deceiving three-word construction would lead us to believe.

I live on planet earth with other folks, and I’m involved in the field of education and learning. I’m a life-long learner with a passion for knowledge and the process of bending bits of ideas into new constructions of beauty.