diamante

Grandpa

Bespectacled, silver

Laughing, looking, gibbering

Grandma, newspapers, apples, incense

Emptying, offering, creating

Last, spotless

Sacrifice

remnants

I’m afraid to share some stories. Like the one about the time when a long-haired, skinny stranger opened the car door, unbuckled his pants, and tried to ruin the innocence of my youth. My big sister saved me. Or when I stole… and I was young… and he said he loved me… I hated the way I looked… I got lost. My little sister was born. My mom was sad. The whole house was dark. Except for the ethereal glow from the pink sheets that hung over the windows in my mom’s room. The sheets blocked out the sunlight, but somehow made the room look like it was on fire.

Shadows from my past and in my future. I’m afraid to share some stories. Like how guilt hangs over me. Did I get married and run away? I didn’t run away… I should call home more. I should call the in-laws more. I should see how my little sister is doing. Am I doing enough? I should make more money to send home. I feel like I’m buying Stan’s birthday gift with his own money. Ha. Happy birthday, babe. Love you forever.

I’m afraid to share some stories. Like how I’m saved and I sin. I’m a believer and I doubt. I’ll say things I don’t mean. What’s worse is that I’ll mean things and can’t say them. I’ve been redeemed by an act of complete grace, but sometimes I don’t know what to do with that.

I’ll lay down the stories I’m afraid to share, over and over again. Lay down my rights, my fears. There is a remnant chosen by grace. I don’t want these remnants of disbelief. I believe in a God who is greater than fear. I believe in his promises, and I believe he’ll see them through till the end.

blast from the past

dollar bills
caffeine thrills
dirty cars
bianca and lars
tissue box
missing socks
lightning showers
hide and cower
smoggy air
truth or dare
roaring lion
someone’s spyin’
a fit of laughter
a thought thereafter
break
skate
figure eights
telling time
did that rhyme
circles, squares
i’ve had my share
camel’s back
short stacks
magnolia blossom
damn you’re awesome
stay up late
stand and wait
question, answer
reveal your cancer
let it go
accept it slow
deep blue ocean
fluid motions
seed is growing
keep it going

indigo

On a night like tonight, I feel dimly nostalgic. But I don’t know what my mind, body, and soul are trying to remember. On a night like tonight, I feel every part of me trying hard to be reconciled with my Maker. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to recall.

letter

dear football,

you have curves in all the right places
for a man to grip.
your game is dirty enough to make
a man’s temperature rise
and testosterone peak.
you mix just enough
chasing and roughhousing
with sweet high fives
and encouraging words.

but you are not me.

you will not win me over,
and you will not win over me.

 

*bbang bbang* you’re dead

a poem.

i just scarfed down the curry bbang
that i was saving for tomorrow morning’s breakfast.
now i have bbang in my belly
that will magically transfer to my face when i wake up.
and i will have no more bbang to eat.
it will all be in my face.
no bbang.
my face.
bbangface.