It is past mid-July, and I am left wondering where summer's gone.
Even my skin feels September's cool breaths in my morning walks to the office.

Beneath our feet

I don't miss you like I used to,
Because we've gone so many miles to know-
Between cities, and separated by
Silly man-made bordered lines they call countries

Funny,
How the earth beneath your feet and mine remain the same.
The spaces between us can't be as far as outerspace
You're not a planet away, afterall

I don't miss you like I used to,
But know
That I haven't stopped missing you.

Sunroom curtain

Sweet corn moon,
Keeps company
As leather skin and spine notebook stares

Breath slows and shortens
Little breezes, barely none
To kiss my dampen sweat-stained skin

While I
counting blessings
As lace curtains barely swirl like dresses
I long to see them waltz the night away

The summer storm of my mind

Summer brings out the flirty skirts and sunshine smiles,
But most tempestuous thoughts thunder and rain into words too,

In mid-July-
This summer mind of mine.

The weatherman finds it hard to predict,

Yet he loves endlessly
& pockets an umbrella in his heart for me.

The capsule and tree

We end ourselves up in bottles in our youth. Capsule our words and swallow them like pills. They become the fabric of our skin. Sometimes cancerous to us. Sometimes, a part of us so difficult to dispose and to clean out of our system...but accepted.

What is a leaf to a tree? The same way a hair strand is to the head. They change colour and shed in time...they leave.

Revealing what is withered and wrinkled when winter begins.

Sometimes, I have to remind myself that I am only human,
Even when I am capable of experiencing a thousand emotions at once.

People and parameters

Did I choose this path?
Sometimes I wish I wasn't so fragile,
I am so tired of missing people.

Summer night's a party

Pocket the sun,
Hang the moon in place
& scatter the stars like confetti.

Close to you

Am I some secret you've been keeping
Folded to crisp in the pocket
of your burgundy dress shirt
slipped close to your chest?

Flowers by the freeway
Are more confined than free.

Macroeconomics

"...the gross national product does not allow for the health of our children, the quality of their education, or the joy of their play. It does not include the beauty of our poetry or the strength of our marriages; the intelligence of our public debate or the integrity of our public officials. It measures neither our wit nor our courage; neither our wisdom nor our learning; neither our compassion nor our devotion to our country; it measures everything, in short, except that which makes life worthwhile. And it tells us everything about America except why we are proud that we are Americans."

-Robert F. Kennedy

Windows

A window that I search for is one that opens my heart,
But every window brings a different view.
It doesn't take the eye alone to see,
Nor does it take the mind and what is within to understand.

For what it's worth, I hope you too, find-
& I hope you, too, be inspired and moved

by instillation of moments
in this parenthesis of time and wooden window
we've carpentered before us.

Not everything planned will be
& not everything that becomes is planned.

La vie.

It is inevitable that people judge and compare,
fact is we do too.
But they don't know our story, and we know not theirs.

Superficial strawberries

I went strawberry picking with my family last Saturday. I was amazed at how beautiful the imperfectly shaped berries were. Especially when compared to the huge/abnormal 'strawberry-shaped' ones at the grocery stores.

It made me question if we live in an illusion. 

Why does society constantly attempt to defy the authenticity of nature? Why are the commodities we purchase pre-polished to perfection? That even strawberries no longer look like they should. But selected and glazed to superficiality.

If we look deep enough, we will see:
that even nature embraces imperfections, allowing them to not just grow, but also exist as one of their own.

Submission

Head nestled to the ground

As I listen to the heartbeat of the earth
Let the soil cradle

Every sorrow, every pride

To feel my soul escaping my mortal parts,

Emptying from my chest 

From worthlessness, into humility.

Vitality

Shadowed by city scrapers

Like forgotten medians of two-way roads

People change, faces leave

But places stay the same

& where were you,

When my days were spent and gone?
Expecting answers to prayers

Like a telephone call

When it rains, the cloud shatters
Again and again-

we fall apart to come together

In this merry-go-round
Like toppled umbrellas spinning on the ground

Where sympathy is found

In search of vitality
To find my heart as concrete
As the walls of this city.

Pretzel

You walked half a foot beside me

& my caramel hand knotted 

like pretzel-twisted in your arm

I wonder too-
if our thoughts and hearts and feelings

remain intertwined the same way