Moderna
I'm an evolving human.
I've chronicled all my mutations ever since
my crawling morphed
into bipedalism
as my incisors were learning to bite.
An early obedience
to doting, later the sulking of a teen rebel
misunderstood by impatience
because I spoke in codes.
I'm an evolving human.
I've chronicled all my mutations ever since
my crawling morphed
into bipedalism
as my incisors were learning to bite.
An early obedience
to doting, later the sulking of a teen rebel
misunderstood by impatience
because I spoke in codes.
An undiagnosed thinker
who didn't end up a brain surgeon
but a poet prone to privation, the same fate
of lonely prophets.
I've been sliding back, my past
present like a regular
to trace the causes of what
I've become, my sidewalk psychoanalysis.
who didn't end up a brain surgeon
but a poet prone to privation, the same fate
of lonely prophets.
I've been sliding back, my past
present like a regular
to trace the causes of what
I've become, my sidewalk psychoanalysis.
I'm a result of complex selection.
I've struggled too much
abandonment
that has erased self, then home
life, going astray only to search for meanings.
A protracted battle
with addictions, my cure
if I couldn't laugh at TV commercials, sleep
or forget what suddenly jolted.
I've struggled too much
abandonment
that has erased self, then home
life, going astray only to search for meanings.
A protracted battle
with addictions, my cure
if I couldn't laugh at TV commercials, sleep
or forget what suddenly jolted.
An abuse of delusion draining
me with unedited oaths after every assault
when even my sobs
were done with sniffles.
I've been chosen by a finger for I know where
to cry, on an unlit corner, then how
loud, the wipe of hems
on soaked cheeks.
me with unedited oaths after every assault
when even my sobs
were done with sniffles.
I've been chosen by a finger for I know where
to cry, on an unlit corner, then how
loud, the wipe of hems
on soaked cheeks.
I'm controlled to adapt.
I've been living
in extremes, my world a threshold
in which anything is the alloy sill on oak door
ways, almost, no beyond.
A street where I wasn't welcome
to roam, full of strangers
who glanced
at me as if my smile, a tableau, was a scam.
I've been living
in extremes, my world a threshold
in which anything is the alloy sill on oak door
ways, almost, no beyond.
A street where I wasn't welcome
to roam, full of strangers
who glanced
at me as if my smile, a tableau, was a scam.
A school that made a bait
out of me for bullies who profiled my looks
as a freckled dartboard, where I
was expected to quit.
I've always been let off along the periphery
if not on the edge
where I'm a chiaroscuro
nursing the light in the blur of black.
out of me for bullies who profiled my looks
as a freckled dartboard, where I
was expected to quit.
I've always been let off along the periphery
if not on the edge
where I'm a chiaroscuro
nursing the light in the blur of black.
I'm a variable in a population.
I've been unknown
since I knew
how it was to get around or strive to belong
without expressed invitations.
A blossom drawn on a wall I wished
were some bird I could share my breaths with
so it would take me to
the melon moon.
I've been unknown
since I knew
how it was to get around or strive to belong
without expressed invitations.
A blossom drawn on a wall I wished
were some bird I could share my breaths with
so it would take me to
the melon moon.
An ant trudging solo on a side table, making
me do a thought experiment, about
not being a person
shrouding her body in bed.
I've had enough
of patterns, a brown stain
on a wool carpet, an unshut mailbox
waiting for letters, a binge on nothingness.
me do a thought experiment, about
not being a person
shrouding her body in bed.
I've had enough
of patterns, a brown stain
on a wool carpet, an unshut mailbox
waiting for letters, a binge on nothingness.
I'm wired to replicate.
I've been asking seers if anything involving
my existence
is involuntary, not my will, a screwed
store mannequin, no robe.
An afternoon of silences
when I tiptoed, unaware of why
I lifted my heels
or whether that hardwood floor was aching.
I've been asking seers if anything involving
my existence
is involuntary, not my will, a screwed
store mannequin, no robe.
An afternoon of silences
when I tiptoed, unaware of why
I lifted my heels
or whether that hardwood floor was aching.
An endless night of smoke circles
I didn't count, my lips
resentful of nicotine, my tongue the vitriol
of whisky on sale.
I've been trying
to explain a cigarette butt falling into a soda
can, the hiss it creates
while dying, the absence of clouds.
I didn't count, my lips
resentful of nicotine, my tongue the vitriol
of whisky on sale.
I've been trying
to explain a cigarette butt falling into a soda
can, the hiss it creates
while dying, the absence of clouds.
I'm a struggle against extinction.
I've encountered
many forms of gloom on faces, agony
to mourning, the saints
I was forced to memorize then now too tired.
A woman cradling a bundle, just a plain roll
of cotton, her song similar
to that of my mother who had long
forgotten me.
I've encountered
many forms of gloom on faces, agony
to mourning, the saints
I was forced to memorize then now too tired.
A woman cradling a bundle, just a plain roll
of cotton, her song similar
to that of my mother who had long
forgotten me.
An idle man on a road, his presence
an afterthought
in a landscape photograph, the desolation
my father didn't see.
I've been ready for my turn
to be jabbed with a needle, a repeat, when
a town was ravaged
by cholera, my misery still wanting.
I'm the surviving fittest.
an afterthought
in a landscape photograph, the desolation
my father didn't see.
I've been ready for my turn
to be jabbed with a needle, a repeat, when
a town was ravaged
by cholera, my misery still wanting.
I'm the surviving fittest.
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