At the center column of identity

At the feet of the sublime
Sculpture of this Galaxy
I am in awe of how quickly
The billions of years went by

A dream of the key of water
We walked upon a floor of
Crystal, in many forms
And our souls traveled to peaks

Virtual landscapes and subliminal
Recognition that we had seen
All that we visited there, experience
Was itself an invocation of

The highest order, capable of
Giving us emotions of the divinity
Of things, the lips of the sun ablaze
As a forgotten god laughing

Barefoot we made it through
Evolution like a story of all those
Sleeping lands, we created in them
With the will of our intelligence

It is not possible here to reproduce
All the characteristics of the original
Edition of the human journey
Progress is a succession of signs

The courses we adopted were somehow
Emphasized by instinct, like
The yearning to speak or the hope
That if we write about our consciousness

Something of our independent uniqueness
Might separate into others, like how
A poem influences other writers.

Whispers of Ming-Ming


Some people flee their obstacles
In the hospitality of some other people
It is fair, it is right, it is good

Like the three oddest words:
“I’m sorry, I forgive you, thank you, I love you”
They leave behind some of their everything

In the little moments with others
It is fair, it is wholesome, it is the last
Of the first steps towards self-knowing:

I’m sorry, I forgive you, thank you, I love you
At the end, when I pronounce the word nothing
Others will be learning to love, like I was once

Some people will find themselves
In the hospitality of some other people
I do not know, if it is easy this way

Or simply the only natural way, they whisper:
I’m sorry, I forgive you, thank you, I love you
That’s what you said, in flawless Mandarin.