Third-culture stream

Short poem 9.

 Third-culture stream

The cushion sits there.

Sun-washed, torn, flake-dry

stuffing moldy from the rain.

Like me —

strapped on a ride down a third-culture stream

observing, like that cushion at the yard,

the world’s idiosyncrasies,

while not yet realizing

how much they’ve affected me.

Drum beats

Short poem 8

Drum beats

When I beat the drum of hate

I feel its vibrations tear fissures

in the mould of my soul.

But when I beat the drum of love

I hear its song soar up and outward

liberating the ears of beholders

liberating my own humanity.

In tandem

Short poem 7.

In tandem

I move

You move

in tandem with the beat

that keeps sweat flowing, blood coursing

on the technicolor floor

In physical synchronicity

we move

back-burning our lives on the stove of Friday nights.




Short poem 6.


I carry dust in my hands
of ancestors handcuffed and shipped
across the Middle seas
And like Adam I wait to plant my seed
in that fertile dust
to be the author of tales untold
in the dank depths of the cargo hold.