Poem, 6/2

when i die, happy explosions will be yours.

we tried so hard, these tiny

atoms of consequence.

a billion letters never sent,

words i couldn’t express:

all will resolve, calmly

forming an other’s

quest for meaning.

Poem, 5/6

[with apologies to Edna St. Vincent Millay's Recuerdo]

it was very sunny, it was very hurried

we drove back and forth across the city

and i rented a mini, and drove it down lombard street

and i tried not to think it was like us:

lush, brief, beautiful, pretty;

popular attractions among many.


it was very foggy, it was very quiet

at the pho place with delicious complexity

like a library, a chain of libraries,

a template of noodles and tea.

during the day we sent postcards to our mothers

and pointed down at greenways hiding cars.


it was very brief, it was very sudden

the snap of a sheet, a city engulfed in flames

but to know i got close makes my chest hurt less.

it came close, but it came.

it was all for you, lover. my all, and all that i had.