love shattered
(always hurts worse the first time)
followed by friendship
you pried from my fingers
and i’m thinking

this happens to chicks
but we’re dudes dude
and you pry and pry

“i don’t like you, nobody likes you”
chicks say that
but we’re dudes dude

but brilliance calls
(right on cue as murphy would have it)
i moved to the country side
of hongkong

saw slaves. met gangs
killers, dealers, and smugglers
the worst of the bad missing
limbs life and hips

achen
born into a family of millionaires
you squandered every penny
on heroin and more
losing family, heart, and then
your mind

akau
leaving wife you finally broke down
‘i’ll see you in four years when
if i’m healthy enough some day to
truly love you’
though we could not share words
we shared tears

i shook hands and shared bathrooms
with killer after killer
and silence endured
i could say hello.

till i broke
really simply wordlessly
tearfully broke
longing for a hug from anyone
from a murderer? not so lucky

that end of wits where there is only
*shudder* for strength alludes you

and

as if noticing for the first time
the fallibility of man
i cried out “he should have been
there for me” but he wasn’t

and that was my friend

since then i’ve never been attached
at the hip.

in teaching me what love is not
you taught me how to love

words stumble and fall
out of my mouth like
spit after anesthesia

old man winter’s gray
song drunkenly serenades
the inside of my cave

these damn apes are
invading and i must resort
to guerrilla warfare

i see their ships marching
through the bay like
ants to watermelon

dog shit on the bottom
of my shoe — surrender
in the pit of my stomach

tomorrow’s daybreak may
reveal thousands more,
armed to the goddamned teeth

Even though the martyrs shoo him
for he doesn’t like to martyr right
he is tremendous. He does not flex
or take his punishment so easily.
He does not bend, he does not waiver.
His death comes at the cost of
most of those that would kill him,
but he get’s the job done, all things
considered. He is tremendous, and
there’s not much anyone can do.

the most vivid recollection
was in line for the drinking fountain
(we lived in a desert after all)
i was all of 14

you punched because i was white
pounded my back and just like
every day it was a fight to keep
from falling to tears at the constant
abuse
over my skin color
over my smile

and i learned
“revenge is the Lord’s”
and i prayed
“Lord I accept because your
wrath is bigger than my fist”

oppression on ever corner
next to every locker
every shoulder bump and push
i’m american and clearly i do not
belong. meaning this is your
leg room not mine

over my skin color
over my smile

and i prayed
“revenge Lord
revenge”

because i knew first your
arms as they held me at nights
and i fought over whether you
were truly worth it, or even truly were.

because i knew your arms of love
long before i knew your grace

i prayed
“revenge Lord
take your fiery eternal
damning revenge”

forgetting the grace that saved me
was no more deserved than theirs.

because i knew first your arms
before i understood that i first knew
your grace

For how is one
(After already taking an extra-long stride
To reach the door ahead of her)
To then, after opening and holding the first door
Allowing her to enter
Where she is only barred by yet another door
To which one is incapable of arriving before her
(To open the second of course)
Leaving two options:
The first of which
Would be to accept that she’ll have to open
The second door herself
Or instead push past her
Practically knocking her over
(I can vouch)
To then awkwardly grasp the second door
And eliminate all possibility
Of potential “smoothness”
And at which point usher her
Inside and covertly grimace
Wondering how to avoid, at all costs,
A similar situation on the way out