My fingertips curl gently

over the bodies of the spoon

in my right hand and fork in my left,

like muscle memory.

Just the smell of Asian food

brings back habits

that I inherited from my grandparents.

Even after all these years

of rage and zero apologies,

I find small memories

in every grain of rice

cupped in a meat-paired scoop,

like delight pushed against tear drops

I almost forgot ab...

When I was younger,

I didn’t care who crossed my doorstep.

Right or wrong, kind or cruel—

People came and went.

I left the door wide open

Hoping they’d return,

Believing I needed them to.

But enough consensual break-ins came.

My furniture was destroyed.

My souvenirs stolen.

My walls painted red

until my home was no longer mine—

just hallways of rewritten history and dissolution.

So I moved ...

On Wednesday, I’m free.

My paperwork is finished

For my PCS.

Nostalgia presents

Its bubbly eyes to see if

I will miss it here.

Sadly, my small friend,

I will only miss people

And not the days’ grind.

Bonfires and potlucks,

European vacations,

Boat trips and hammams.

Maybe, some of the

Memories I will look back

On fondly and ache.

This place was, of course,

My home for almost two years.

Goodby...

There is glass between me and you.

Actually, it’s a one way mirror.

It’s a funhouse.

It’s a silent room on my side.

And there is a life being lived,

Clearly reflected,

And you can see something I don’t.

But I can see everything.

I can hear everything.

It’s so clear.

But when I’m told what they see,

What they remember,

I question the clarity they thrive in

When the mirror shows not what they ...

I would suffer for you. Black and blue know no pain like being without you. You are the world to me. I am afraid of what I would be if you were not there to guide me. Nobody may know, or even agree that we are meant to be, but they aren’t us. They don’t know what we know, or understand happiness as we know it. Love… is immaterial. More than flesh and blood, more than money, more than relationships...

I can get drunk on the way you smile. Every piece of me hides in the dark until you saunter over with your home-made laughter.

You’re deadly, in just the right mixture in the day and night. You could kill people with the way you make them feel—terrible with how they abuse your kindness or emphatic with how they feel safe, listened to, and understood.

You show that purity and strength are an ex...

Murder… I told the priest.

An egregious sin to say the least.

I’ve killed myself all too well.

That’s a pretty bad circle of hell.

I’ve stolen moments and I’ve lied

To try to keep my options wide.

I’ve chosen pride over humility

In an attempt to hide ambiguity.

I’ve been so angry and so greedy

And ignored friends who I deemed needy.

I’ve followed my heart a little too fast;

Ensured relationsh...

It’s this dream again. I really hate this dream.

“Hello?” No response. “Hello??”

Again, nothing. The water seems too eerily still; even my yelling leaves the surface undisturbed. And this brisk, wet coldness that seems to coat my fingertips, nose, and cheeks is accompanied by no breeze.

I feel like a wet sock—or maybe a dewy blade of grass.

Instinctually, I think to reach for the pocket of m...

A revelation! Elation

In flight of or in spite of

Despair from unfair

Choices and voices

That lead the need

To end a journey where

Knowing less or

Not at all

Isn’t all that’s there.

An epiphany! And any

Newfound sounds

Of discovery uncovering

Truth; unseen meaning

Hidden and forbidden

From view until

You learn

To start living.

A rhyme! A time

For control that tolls

A bell of order well

Until ...

Life is like a sharp stick…

One day, you fall off a branch and someone finds you. And they decide you are one of many things, possibly many different useful things at once. Poetically, you only need to be what you are. And that’s life—you are only what you are, aren’t you?

I think I’ve based everything I’ve ever been good at to learning how to be useful. It’s nice to be needed, right? When someo...