replicãre

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What are you? I ask.
A black dragon, he declares.
And the light singing
into deep nights of winter.
This red rose—bitter and sweet.

(tanka 5-7-5-7-7)

Several years ago, I was inspired to write a sort of poetic retort to the question, “What are you?” In those awkward moments where you don’t quite know how to reply to a question and are left stumbling for words, you may find a window to unusual answers. My poem took the form of a Japanese tanka (5-7-5-7-7) in English:

What are you? They ask.
A pink flower, i declare.
And darkness dancing
into light waves of seashore.
Jaguar’s soft skin and heartbeat.

Recently I was inspired to flip the question and create a mirrored reply. The tanka at the top is the result. And you? What are you?

equinox

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this autumn
i fall
like the leaves
into secluded shadows where light
sparkles and dances
alone
and underneath the deepening dark
earth
i fall
like the leaves
surrendering and shedding
this sweet body of my soul
all these scared and brittle memories
and i wait
like the leaves
for some distant spring when
my love
underneath a bold and gentle sun
takes my hands and dances together with me
out loud
i wait
and i fall
like the leaves
for an inevitable spring
falling all over for you
again

fragile

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feeling sad and sorrow
disbelief despair fragility hurt trapped amnesia wrath
silence and defeat……
or hope?
all relentless contenders for my heart
whose elegant hand shall i hold
in this midnight dance of broken dreams
in this midday masquerade of love

Dear Angel of The Darkness,
Won’t you step out from behind the clouds?
This moon, overcome by the sea, is drowned.
Waning, her light cannot
shine
in this sky
without
you.

the darkness

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all along
i thought he was holding my hand, and
walking me into
the l i g h t
but now it seems, rather
my angel has been leading me on, and
into the darkness
deeper, and deeper still
and across
this river of no return
and why i?
i have all but disappeared from myself
here…
here where i am nowhere and my angel is everywhere
in me
and what then?
when the last of twilight deepens into a moonless night
will these eyes opened see?
blinded no longer
by l i g h t

flare

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can i ?
step outside of time
just this time
pausing
for one infinite second somewhere
sometime
between here and there and
now and then
can i even be?
still
deep inside this centrifuge
of wind and of fire
inside this solar flare burning
seven billion times brighter
than the sun
?

melt

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all caught up in a rapture, a reverie
in poetic flurry
i fall
like snow, adrift
swirling softly in mid-march cold
and then land
right here
on this plum blossom petals pink
open and full
i melt

Courtesy of Facebook memories, the above poem was brought back to me from three years ago when I was still living in Japan. And there was a much older haiku from some eleven or twelve years ago, also inspired by pink blossoms. Unbeknownst to me, I have been a pink flower poet in the making for much longer than I had realized. I now declare henceforth the promulgation of flowetry—flower poetry. 🤭
Wishing you a happy and flower-full spring! 🌸💗🌸

dragon

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did i summon that dragon?
or did it come here
for me
dancing
with its luminous globular
gem?
this crystal
clear
carries my heart
into and across uncharted oceans
of enchantment

Happy Lunar New Year! We have entered the year of the dragon and so here is a poem I wrote over four and a half years ago, titled simply, dragon. Unbeknownst to me then, I was indeed truly entering unchartered oceans of enchantment in ways which were beyond my wildest dreams… beyond even, my own imaginative capacity. So much has transpired in these past four and a half years, and now it is already 2024—the year of the dragon itself. I believe the most magical is still yet to come. Get ready!

Wishing all of you a wonderful and beautiful new year🐉🔮

contentment

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micropoetry for a rainy day

    sometimes
we just gotta b r e a t h e
      and be
  okay
        with   just being.

Yours truly,
Los Angeles

beautiful

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this body
in the soft folds of kimono
also creases
gently
without resistance
to earth and to drifting stars
this body breathing, obi-bound, is a delicate dance
like butterflies in the wind
like waves of the ocean
rising and falling
weaving together all the days and all the nights into one endless strand
step after step
fold after fold
crease after crease
this body is singing
and dreaming
is birthing
anew
worlds of beautiful

again

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empires rise and fall
and the world’s great cities are built to someday crumble back into the earth
as landmasses collide and drift apart
the stars, in brilliant constellations, climb up into the night sky only to disappear again
buried somewhere beneath the horizon of day
and we come and we go, again
and again
and yet
we dance, again
all the while we dance
again
in these eternal arms of love