Mother tells me to eat well.
Mother, who knows best, asks,
how are you? She has asked this
all of my life. There are only two 
answers to this question. Two answers 
keep us mother and son,
mother and daughter.

The distance is a question.
The question is also a statement 
of a struggle.

If the word is a struggle, 
you understand.

We cannot continue as we are.
We cannot forget we are guests 
who have overstayed. I invite you 
to living against (as we do).
It is not enough to have one tongue 
It cannot point to everything
and in every direction.

We do not use our mother tongue 
for our lovers. Beloved,
we speak your words.
What do we want? Freedom. 
When do we want it? Now.Protest 
in the mother tongue. Free now 
from the notion of continuity.

The present is the utterance; 
now is too late.

Flowers plucked for later,
not now, they are dead. Stem, 
stamen, piston: I do not ask
if they are perfect.

I am not to blame for the flies 
who dive into a cup of tea.

Life after death is a belief. 
There is no heaven because 
there is no hell.

After rain, a swarm of flies
misbehave like subborn stubble. 
Claimed by multi-legged beings,
hair loosens from its comfort of a braid.

Rain seeps into animals who lie
still, the wind breathless from blowing. 
Until sun convinces us to take
our layers off; dismisses the hats
we wear.

It is heat that instructs
feet to stand apart, arms akimbo,
a tug of a breeze renders us foolish.

We predict the contraction 
of bones, of skin obliging 
a dress picked
for a summer caper.

Pulsating ceaselessly without gain, 
the sun forces us outdoors
at gloaming and indoors at noon 
so the syllables we learn
find their use within specific hours.

If we are to leave in stages – as 
in a preparation for a feast – if 
we are to leave at all...

It is not possible to remain
free of the suffering of knowing 
and of ignorance.

In fifty years, dogs from rival villages 
have lost and won wars. Their heirs walk
with tails between their legs.

We pray for a better life.

The inevitable, here, then gone.
Snowbound ground, snow topped ground, the only 
assurance we have
is, it will melt.

Our bodies covered 
and uncovered
are not the same.