Spring onions [ little but mighty ] dance around in a Friday evening pan & press their tangy scent through screened windows in Queen Village. Volvo-owning dads mirror-shine their autos with microfiber cloths & load hatchbacks with camping equipment. I walk through it all, like an open air museum. Grilled burgers & Turtle Wax, basil clippings from the windowContinue reading “COMFORT”
The city is a spillt canister of legos stretching out & out etched by rivers large enough to accommodate boats impressive bridges. Disregard the concrete. Pay no mind to the curdling of liquids after it rains. Look up to the massive sky where stale sounds and stifled air find release. The city is a beehive that alarms us when we think: “Gosh, we made this with hands,Continue reading “THE CITY IS A BEEHIVE”
The plastic bag is puffed into flight by a crisp spring wind. Lofted above green awnings, tumbling in child-like somersaults. Catching sunshine, its transparency beams luminescent. Suddenly, it dives in a fearless plummet, a dizzying spin until another gust carries it into oblivion.
We yell at each other until our throats scream.The words (mean) and we know it! It is when we reach unconsciousness: we turn into sweet, tame little cats. Cuddle, we mumble sweetness, we love with honesty. (an accidental poem by kris of ZUPAdream)
I’m sitting at the glass balcony and the sky is filling high tide with copper and lilacs. Small kids wear blue oversized football helmets and run in synchronized patterns in the field below. Now they hold hands, sweat caught in eyelashes (I’m guessing). They jump and spin and can’t stand still.