Monthly Archives: June 2013

telling time

happy birthday, love
here is a watch
as requested

the band is adjustable
to fit your small wrist
and it has a light
so you can see
even in the dark
the second hand butterfly
flitting around the face

but don’t worry about
counting the minutes
or hours just yet
the time for that
will come soon enough

for now, let your days
and nights be timeless
and if you must
let the seconds only
be marked
by the passage
of brightly colored wings

food for thought

an industrial designer told me yesterday
over pancakes, eggs, and hash browns
that when sketching, he likes to take inspiration
from something completely unrelated
to whatever product he is creating
like cars and watches or airplanes and lamps

so here i am staring at a half eaten apple
while thinking of you and poetry
and though “sweet” and “refreshing”
might be useful descriptors at some point
i am not sure you would approve of “cold” or “bruised”
and “firm” and “juicy” might be too suggestive

but as i am taking my time
oxidation has already kicked in
coloring the green-tinged flesh
into darker and darker shades of brown
quickly and completely
reminding me of the way your
southeast asian skin tans every year
when the warm spring winds
finally allow you to peel off
the long sleeves and boots
to expose tank tops and toes

and i am just staring at this apple
at a loss for words
but starting to remember
that i am still
a little hungry

i brought you no flowers

do not expect gifts of flowers from me
i don’t have my father’s skill
at coaxing life from stubborn seeds
sneakily smuggled out of cambodia
or my mother’s dedication to
dozens of delicate plants potted
in just as many different sized containers

i cannot even keep heather
which needs almost no care at all
from dying of too much
or maybe too little water
i’m still not sure which
and i feel too sad for the cut flowers
harvested in their prime
and rubber banded into bouquets
to pick out the least wilted bunch

but i can offer you a virtual garden
a digital nursery of poems
borne of the heart
that you may view at your leisure
where each visit will reveal
some new growth
where no two creations will ever
look or sound or
feel the same
unless it is in
the way plumeria petals feel
velvety like your lips
or the way your hand in mine feels
warm like sunshine
or the way every word i write feels
like a heartbeat calling you home

V-

you do not like
being called
“a sweet boy”
by your teacher

you even go so far
as to tell me later
with furrowed brow
wrinkled nose
pursed lips
and hands clenched
into chubby little fists
at your sides
that you “hate
being called
a sweet boy”

and i
cannot stop myself
from reaching out and
tickling your neck
to elicit
a relaxed giggle
and the
sweetest smile

tales

boyfriend met best friend
for the very first time
and we spent all evening
sharing stories about you
I’m sure there were other topics
we could have discussed
but what could have been
as important?
what could have turned you
as red?

taking time

I figured the most difficult part
would be the hike up the mountain
after a two-month forced absence
navigating that steady incline
on only one hour of sleep
for that view of the county
bathed in early morning light
and it was
for me
for her
it was the descent
in her cousin’s shoes
down the newly surfaced trail
with its fresh coating of dirt and gravel
and rocks kicked loose by earlier risers
reaching to me for balance more than once
holding on during slippery stretches

it was a welcome reminder
that even though a path
might look the same
the journey is different
for everyone
that I shouldn’t forget
to slow down when things are easy
to see if someone else
is struggling and in need
of a hand