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T.B. 1 : The Drawer
Looking in the drawer under the closet rack, you will find - because this is what I found - a bracelet, a tube of moisturiser, a concealer pen, two aromatherapy (ylang ylang and lavendar) vials, a computer generated astrological chart: sun in Aquarius/moon in Aquarius/ascendant in Virgo, a baby bolster I used to hug to sleep with, pocket mirror, a ( Read more... ) -
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on account of this string of sweet interger ( Read more... ) -
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I forgot that you are an English major. Afterall, you still read poetry. You will always be pregnant with life and words and passion. -
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other journeys are taken. the shorter ones have the sound of machination trundling across a suburbia, letting only autumn announce those dreadful secrets creeping up when the cold sets in. before you know it, they gave you one hour, one extra hour of misery. one extra of sun light to know which leaves will fall, which won't. to know how to speak of ( Read more... ) -
Two times
Chance has it that the encounter would happen when I took the shorter route that runs between the cafe and the water feature. Chance will further dictate that seizing emotion, that spilt second of being stumped, followed by a quickened pace. When you do not decide the lot of your pain (or shame?), the moment of recognising what was loss hits you ( Read more... ) -
total current.
My head still turns whenever I reach that inevitable corner. That building is unmistakable, and I've committed it to memory. Its traceable presence, its breathing influence gather amongst its neighbouring structures, a landscape of a miscalculations. There is a painting I am particularly fond of, which hangs over your bed. I made a point to ( Read more... ) -
modern apetite
preserver of the heart, hear us! -
inland
From where the wonder-boy hung in flight, moments and motions freeze. That is where I take myself, to see from above how difficult it is to separate, dream weaving dream, fear dreading fear - other deep secrets buried in the subconscious pool of sleep. That is when locked limbs untie, all after faint goodnights and soft pecks on cheeks and words ( Read more... ) -
requiem et redux
not when death visits. it perpetuates ( Read more... ) -
Old Geology
It's 7 at night and the university never seemed this cold because the last time I was here in the late evening, granted I am an arts student, we snooped into the corner of Old Geology and I had your hands wrapped around my waist. That was after light retreat from the Old Law archway, leaving the romantic print of those row of yellow lamp. The wall ( Read more... )