The car rocked back and forth in that way old cars did, shivering their way from point A to point B. It looked old and worn, and from where she lay across the back seat, she could just see an old apple core rolling back and forth on the stained floor below her.
Read MoreWine sipped from crystal,
trout swallowed from silver forks,
our mouths not used
to starving for words,
After I help her
into the tub,
I hang her robe
on a hook.
I rue those nights I’d slept,
and wakened from a dream
in which I could have wept
from loss of self-esteem.
In the twilight of Søren Kierkegaard’s life, he begins to question his own philosophical fundament. He did not plan this.
Read MoreWarped and melded,
the immutability of mountains,
pushed and shoved time
into crenelated niches and canyons.
My thoughts go back to Taipei, its bright and hard-working students, all of them wearing glasses, its hyper-cute children, its grey vivacity and its smelly night-markets
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It’s an indulgent act that no disguise
can hide despite a battery of sounds
and vivid images that mesmerize
the senses
A swing set sits in the side yard.
It was the fun house to visit,
but now it is encircled by a withering garden.
Do you remember when we found all those seashells and packaged them up into wax paper envelopes to send to all our enemies? I took a sand dollar hostage so I could memorize the rough rimmed perimeter.
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