Ode to a Kebab
The only thing better than
the ritual of the kebab,
is ending the night not just with eating,
but with me in your arms sleeping.
Were I a rat, I could love cheese without understanding how it was made exactly
Love lessons from Rat, our soldier of hope
Grief for a sense of home
crack under the bathroom door, a basket of dim-sum and maybe a soup-bowl haircut
night-club love-letter to a stranger
Mistake mis-take we mis-took each-other for reflections of our most fantastical selves.
Scatting Practice
If I were to slip into a black hole that took me to another dimension,
The first thing I’d say to the life forms I came across would be,
Skarabababambam!
How do Mountains? Walking poems from Northern Camino de Santiago
How do mountains?
Why does sea?
Why and how do you and me?