To The Moonbeam of Mirroring Trance


Art though pale for weariness
O Supermoon, comet stricken between
The ocean & the stars

Golden of milky blue horizons
Wandering reflecting, forever mirroring
Light, gazing on the Earth

With mellow agriculture of changing moods
Art thou joyful with inconstancy?
Forever cycling through different birth-hours
Creating in thy gaze moonbeams that bathe
My brow, inciting wild-flowers
And orbs of clouds to star-studded night

With intervals of shadow and burning brooding
Why are thou so pale for memory?
O Supermoon, comet stricken for

Nature’s tired reposes, radiant with disclosure
For another midnight of Death
Gloomier never, only more silver

In burning mimicry, with an orb so bright
Golden of milky blue horizons
That even a twilight of care, might mirror thee
O’ moon, with pangs of the poetry of the Eons
Forgotten destiny born to repeat.

June 25th, 2013

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These Lives were heaps of feathers


These words, stain our memories
With hope, like heaps of feathers
Pillows of forever, at the edge of the valley
Of life after digested tragedy
It doesn’t come easy, the expertise
Of knowing when to suffer gladly
And when to abandon oneself to joy
These experiences, like many flowers
Each month blooms to its own tastes
In the dry grass of summer nights
Humid and decorated with
The meaning we give events
I found you, like a “we’ll grow together”
Of how and when ‘forever’ begins
Clock-struck with a person, time accelerates
Love bears fruits like mangoes
In a tropical climate, everything
Tastes better, papaya gladness
Filtered through many doors, reduced by stars.

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Parallel of a Lost Chinese Antidote


Heaven has various glory
Sometimes but a symbol of peace
At dawn where the world is round
As with the triumph of the birds

It’s morning in the sweetest degree
Where Rapture is the last embrace
Of all the future Paradise
And bliss as a Superior Grace

Than we can see, or meet
A house upon the heights is our Spirit pure
That no dead can approximate
Heaven has various glory inhaled

Sometimes but a symbol of harmony
No other neighbor did find solitude
But in the conjunction of various needs
Who surrendered all their power

To the lucid nature of fate
From sunsets past to dawns of latitude
It’s morning for the easiest delight
‘Hush now she said, follow your bliss’.

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Script of Life


Where light the very nimble Gentleman
Through centuries of Noon, through youth
Please pray for children, not derivatives

For debt could scare the young
Where faith the very wise Elder woman
Through waters of life, do strive –

While it is alive, Life the lap of air
To breathe and Love, do dwell in blood
Love is like life, dust to chant ‘alive’

Where plants the Great Ancestor
Of all that once came from the Sea
Though Epic is our make, faster is our

New kind of Evolution, the speed
Of mind imprinting itself in the absolute
Through centuries of Noon, that shine

That the lover who occupies this house
Might lend himself to beloved Circumstance
To play a fated role, with a stranger

Were I compelled to build magic afternoons
I would inhabit it with Birds assembled
And writ upon the Door, our names in Mandarin.

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Songs of the Hybrid


My nose is white, and not too big
Your fragrance is in my veins
The flowers of your womb have permeated me
And I would mate, and dance for children

With songs of love, and the echo of fate
I am not of the East, born of the West
We quicken with desire
For a shared future, the triumph of Queen-belonging

My nose is white, and not too big
Not Asian and indented, but a button nose
Your fragrance is in my blood
Your hips live in the back of my mind

You churn a lifetime of happiness
Like the weight of all yesterdays colluding
With a new creation, challenge and joy
What girls care for, the creation

Of their family, their right, their worth
My nose is white, and bigger than yours
Your fragrance is stuck to my bones
The scene of your hair is laden with black

Like fibers of my genetic code enmeshed
In a hypothetical hybrid, the earthy last resort of life.