To become fluentIs to walk with the handsThe resilience of starchDried on the steep slope of the bowl.And what may seem cleanIs a trick of the eyeFor the residue of riceResists the towel and scrubAnd clings there,Known only to the fingersThat would seek this knowledgeAnd ignore the one thin hairAfloat in the soup, yesterday,As we... Continue Reading →

On Stillness and Turbulence

At the still axis of revolution, about which our tortures churn, the pure and toddler self remains, present and young, uncoiled, unlearned. Such that a top, spinning, poised gyroscopic on a point, traces a path on a floor, spiraled to the delight of a child's fresh gums attentive, must wobble in the end, must with... Continue Reading →

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