It was a sunny day on the coast of Ascension Island, the absolute middle of the Atlantic ocean. A 10 years old, half English half Sri Lankan boy went to give a hand to the hatching turtules in the natural reserve near by the main town and only town: Georgetown. Only 600 people live on this tiny island.. It fosters a sense of familyhood at the end of the world.
The boy was living abroad in English territories for many years, following his father’s steps as an explorer and as well a conservationist. He has seen the storms of life…
She wakes up, wrestling pillows, where is my hug?
Do we know each other? We forgot. Too many thoughts, who could remember.
Last night, curious penetrating looks.. is this ‘the hookup plan’ or maybe just a friend?
Bathroom, I come back, needless to guess.
She’s sitting, half smiling half wondering.
What am I doing?
Sex, intimacy, big questions, small talk you know, big show.
We found ourselves in our stories.
It is happening as we’re talking.
I am a dormant magnet, she ignites it.
Minus plus minus plus, it works.
How am I supposed to breathe?
She’s there, too close.
I am far, so far, too far.
Appearing and disappearing on every whitewash
I see white swans but blinking black..
Ocean, where are the blues?
Conveniently, I reached the point of no return
But what.. How do I turn around now?
I saw her, I felt her, I know her and she’s here.
No matter what I do, she’s still here.
7mm forehead, straightforward, and I am blind.
7nm away but my eyes reach shorelines of imagination, my lips open up to catch…
We used to
Swim in courage liquid
The Chinese border
Searching for sex
Across the river
Until we can’t get enough
Rice eaten with hands
but who cares
when thresholds are ignored
1000 belly kisses
You’re the only one
So can we make love
Haiku after haiku
I sing to you
North Korean Pop
We used to
Forget the rules
But now that we’re overgrown
I miss the card nights
On the kitchen floor
Would you join me once more
Before this haiku
Takes a long walk to U.S.A
Promised land I couldn’t share
Inspired greatly by Elbow — Any Day Now/Powder Blue/Newborn
Drums bassing, guitar tuning, vocal-cords reversing:
Timelines and unmatching tales, new ability to triple-check facts.
Pounding outside the gate of thought, breaks.
Emotions licking a microphone like oreo-cookie-vanilla ice cream.
Tracing the scars
Pulling the blinds
Now unkiss me
And play our song
Taste the tears
Bitter lemon seeds
Unhurt my feelings
Bring my minute back,
I’ll share it all with you.
What’s got into me?
Can’t believe myself.
Must be someone else.
Monday 2018 January
Afternoon Halogen lights
Me and him
Sir Narcissus Poeticus
The judge concluded a verdict in partial remorse.
I know what it meant.
Shedding a tear privately, within my drying laryngospasm, swallowing each innocent drop, gently, to maintain my stature, dignified.
“Convicted for first degree: misunderstanding love”
“You have the right to mitigate circumstances or say last words before we proceed with the sentence”
In a rusty shameful voice, testifying:
My lawyer stepping violently on my toes, bursting out loud instead —
“The woman later gave mixed signals about her desire to die/dream, but the doctor, in close consultation with the woman’s family, decided to go ahead with the mercy killing/living. — San Diego Union-Tribune, 26 Sep. 2019”
In a place constructed of full intricate passageways and blind alleys, listening took place.
The swamp willow, a hairy perennial growing spindly, mediterranean ear, bon soirée, curiosité intellectuelle.
Self-examinition, an excruciating attempt when marina fleshlights are forcing to portray a different tale on front teeth timid ballet.
Olive oil hand holding when the chemistry requested for clues upon mysterious facial coordination with bottomless emotions.
Little tattoo, Integrity…
Little flower girl
a youthful fountain
Little sunny curls
in countryside fields
Violin soothing whispers
horses pony tales
Peaches and cherries
under mother’s wings
demands of nature’s clock
for a distinct color
Olive green Jerusalem
white doves of peace
Diamonds shining thirst
Hormones spilling milk
Eye to eye
late red street lights
Crossing she’s alive
provocating, it’s time
Long nails texting
scratch feel fall
Alive, in love
Grandpa, shall I join the navy and be just like you?
The memories, the legacy, the values of the family, of you.
Grandpa, I am a gladiator now, just like you.
Are you proud of me?
Grandpa, dying young was part of the story?
I don’t want to die.
Can you listen now?
Now that you’re gone?
Now that we’re talking…
Finally, grandpa, finally gladiators.
Strong, firm, bitter cynics.
An inch, not an inch.
We’re steady, we’re here.
The war is crushed in scarred fists.
We can rest, we can try to rest. …
Drifted far enough where excuses no longer made sense
A bag full of candies and compasses
just in case
The wind didn’t listen to my innermost desires
Hesitantly, in no one’s grass, ashore
The full white moon and the black water told
Even the clouds were gliding mountain tops
To nourish imagination from turning home
My bag full of military answers, independent
I walk a foreign body, a dummy pulled by a magnet
Something in the boats, the compass didn’t let
To ignore Carl Jung’s invisible unlearned secret
Inviting fresh thoughts to turn brackish
Abnormal but possible flying fish