poetry, Writing Portfolio

Chasing the Moon

Chasing the Moon


There was a man who chased the moon. 
He said it was for love. 
I chased him round until we flew, 
The ground beneath us gone. 

The stars all looked like splintered glass 
With emptiness between. 
I asked him why we floated so. 
He said it was for love. 

A floating, wandering, unkempt love 
In search of a lost moon. 
He said the ground was too below, 
And us, we’re too far gone. 

This love is new and rich, I thought, 
Unlike I’ve ever seen. 
She’s chased and chased, but never caught. 
I asked him why he cared. 

“Unsafe, unknown, and wild, this love, 
But would you ever know? 
Her smile at night and pale, white light 
I’d rather chase than forgo.” 


Photo by I 

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poetry

Melody

Melody


Music. Swirling, twirling. A floating note, floating higher higher. Gone. 

There are some unlike anything else. There are some swinging singing running faster and faster. These are some unlike anything else.  

Exciting flying dipping lower going under and around such sound of going and going and going faster. Notes. Blowing flutes beating drums running until we are flying and flying over and over. This is something unlike anything else. 

Voices floating glowing high and low below over and under. Hundreds. Loud proud and singing music. These are some unlike any other. 

Sound abounds and love and hate and life and violins and love, and dying crying escaping weight and hatred. Notes laughing dancing chanting curling and unfurling. The music is here and here and here but not there. But hear. 

It is something unlike anything else. 

Photo by Vlah Dumitru

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poetry, Publications, Writing Portfolio

Joy

Joy


All the straight and crooked lines blend together with different colors. A blue canyon, a pink sun, and a red moon. A smile on someone else’s face that’s contagious because her nose is wrinkled and her eyes squeeze shut so tightly that little tear droplets leak out the corners. Laughter bubbles up in the throat so strongly that air cannot get to the lungs. 

A soft fuzzy feeling in your chest like a two-year-old petting a bunny like it’s made of porcelain instead of flesh and fluff. It spreads like liquid sunlight, warming the blood and turning the rivers to gold. You close your eyes but can still see light through the cracks. 

It’s not a frown or a smile, but the everlasting laughter of a soul. A blanket of mountains, stars, children, and God folding around your shoulders like your lover’s arms, and you can lay down to sleep with an empty mind full of light. 

We breathe in, we breathe out. It overwhelms us. The spirit, the soul, the body, the eyes full of emotions, the mind full of heart, the blood vessels moving like jets through the clouds, the bones that grow in the tiny life inside your stomach, the rivers that end and begin from nothing, the ocean surface rippled like thoughts, the endless sky of imagination, and the stars that are too many to number. We breath in, we breath out. We smile. 

I sleep. I wake up, and there’s a bounding in my chest because of the light, because of my lover beside me, because of my God inside of me, because of life. 


Photo by Fuu J 
Published in The Iris Review, Spring 2018

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