two roads diverging
dried leaf scent on barren dirt
dying, ferns beckon

September 7, 2024

may cooler heads prevail;
pipe bombs and rifles
threatening deadly hail

tearing flesh, bloodless, pale
screaming, dying no trifle:
may cooler heads prevail

precariously setting sail
into the maelstrom, hateful
threatening deadly hail

of words; kindnesses forgotten, fail
to bridge untrusting glares baleful:
may cooler heads prevail

at the brink, pushing back to no avail
bodies, faces who heed no counsel
threatening deadly hail

in failing strength and grace, now so frail
a whisper, barely heard against the baneful
threatening deadly hail,
“may cooler heads prevail”

La Classe.
La Dignité.
L’ Intégrité.

Maintenant.
Nous tous.
Toujours.

(mais se battre, quand il faut)

i found the mail sent yesterday to me
to say my precious work of heart and soul
was coarse, uncouth, and worse, was crude debris,
a sad excuse for cultured self-control.

they called it tasteless, vapid, worthless tripe
more suited to the lining of a pig
than something worthy of a linotype,
and snickered that i had too much to swig

before i dared to set my thoughts to words,
to capture all the fire of my heart,
and all my mortal essence from these sherds
of human soul who dared the price of art.

so judge my words and crush them with debate,
yes, you who can destroy but not create

scribe was originally published in Poetry in Form on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

shattered, my pieces once said
you prismed me
rainbows
and now
i am
sand
forgotten

(this is a Chalkboard Espresso response to Harper Thorpeʻs “When Time Wonʻt Heal” on Chalkboard)

words, break was originally published in Chalkboard on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

where you say
the light
refracts
a million rainbows
where you say
what had passed
has made
what i am
still, i see glass,
once, forever,
always
cracked

(this is a one-line response to Harper Thorpeʻs “When Time Wonʻt Heal” on Chalkboard)

glass was originally published in Chalkboard on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

time of year,
weather
permitting
reflecting off the mountain wall
streaming in through the high window
wood-grain balmed
living goldens and reds
breathing tinge of last green-leaf
too soon
gone again
a moment
you were there:
i saw

tourniquet
i hemorrhaging
emotion
uncontrolled
i canʻt see my heart
itʻs spillingspilling
triage
this poor
motherfucker
give her some space
icanʻtbreathepanicpanic
panicicanʻtbreathe
give her some space
give her some air
back off and
intubate
too late
too late
sheʻs shockyshock
got the
glazedeye stare
no pupillary panicary dilation
vitals signs
of basic feelings
too erratic
send her outside
she gonna
flat
line
too far gone
to even cry

fond words:
“art can
investigate
interrogate
educate
instigate
but never
ever
imitate”
fine words
feathers
fall from flight
alight upon the pyre
offerings to the muse
smokey stench
drifting ashes and we all fall down
sing the sacred song
to fly
fly once more
on words
to dare
the immortal

an asian american woman

a rejection.
trying to find her body (dissociated)
trying to find her thoughts (deformed)
trying to find her voice (choked)
trying to find her place (lost)
trying to find her role (barren)
trying to find her family (rejected)
trying to find her fears (reckless)
trying to find her past (erased)
trying to find her future (denied)
trying to find her present (empty)
trying to find her desires (unwanted)
trying to find her story (silent)

had to quit drinking, drugging, smoking,
never made it to smiling, singing, surfing, or sexing.
“sad your life”
so it would seem
so it means pulling up stakes
and moving on
weʻve always been chased from one place
to another.
never fit in.
the modern-day nomad.
you know, you can be a nomad and never move places?
you just never settle in.
never settle down.
never settle.
but then
no one will settle for you.
no one will let you settle.
settler identity is an oxymoron,
because a settler is and will always be
unsettled

so i settle for my words
captured in the fields of time
butterflies
birds
horses
too often
snakes
and wolves
before they go off on their merry way
vanishing
with a bite of me
served at a ten course
chinese banquet
where i am the guest of honor
the peking (ooops, beijing) duck
crackling sin

so many sins
like being japanese
when youʻre chinese
when youʻre japanese
when youʻre american
when youʻre settled
in an occupied land
that has occupied you
that you cannot call home

is not a house
pretty windows perfect yard
rotting at the core
rejection of the middle
class is just a fuckin lie

where
i try
to fit in
to find a place
somewhere to belong
somewhere to be wanted
to be embraced as part of
and the only part being offered
i cannot fit and i have no place

because there is no place
for the yellow face
bitch who been abused
misused
dismissed
defused
before she blows
a walking bomb
without a fuse
cause she donʻt need
no fuckin mediocre ruse
to do a halfassed job
thatʻll never make the six oʻ clock news
cuz she been clocked
and read
and knows the shade
from every passing chick
wearing grandmaʻs fuckin jade
that says she belong
to some damn club
jus cuz she got the fuckin phat blood
and i got too much blood
flowin in a flood
the wrong kind
the wrong mind
the wrong find
in the mud
of genealogy
that ends in
Hiroshimic
Ameratomic
radiology
Yellow
River
agronomy
misplaced
non-kanaka
physiognomy
because iʻm just a fuckin
untrained
unrestrained
halfbreed
washout

washed up on Americaʻs shores
land of the free home of the brave
where the braves live on reserves
where Japʻs not wanted here
neither black nor brown
nor even red
and not
white

washed history
language
epistemology
i canʻt speak my
mother tongue
father jaw
canʻt even lip off
in the hipster, Xʻer,
or whatever clicheʻd
lingo of the day
cuz iʻm just a lameass
boomer
who only got the boom
and the boomboom
as a kid
and i walk around
slit eyed
not because iʻm asian
but because i squint
and scowl
and have a resting bitch face
to keep the motherfuckers in their place
and from trying any shit on me
from shitting on my face
by
trying to take my dissociated body
trying to take my deformed thoughts
trying to take my choked voice
trying to take my lost place
trying to take my barren role
trying to take my rejected family
trying to take my reckless fears
trying to take my erased past
trying to take my denied future
trying to take my empty present
trying to take my unwanted desires
trying to take my silent story

and maybe i should become a
drinking, drugging, smoking,
always smiling, singing, surfing, always sexing.
a rejection.

an American (asian) woman