A white person told me on October 7that I should be embarrassed to speakabout genocidebecause my last name is YamanakaI wanted to ask if his ancestors were absolved of sinAnd where, and when ( have part of my Dad’s faceWhy not carry my Mama’s nameas an upgrade) My mother was born in Tokyo11 years AFTER … Continue reading Projection
Hope is the Thing with Talons
Beware a hex sentin the guise of gift Pandora was a curseunleashed on Manby vengeful ZeusHer crime? Existence—and she wouldn’t obeyPrometheus HAD warned her not to trust what the gods gave freelyCuriosity killed the catbut Pandora—She knew what she was doingShe listened with her shell-curved ear, and heard the storm-tossed windShe felt the buzzing of … Continue reading Hope is the Thing with Talons
No Words
little feather mine, drowning in the darkthe fire went into my bonesand broke the keys off flathaving seen what we becamethe fire fears us back the water rose above our headsfrozen screams, pulled undercresting angels crush me downand feathers choke the aether babies, bodies, burnt and broke(bullets, tanks, bombs, smoke)—we all came tumbling after
Function
Genocide in the mainstream. Bent controversial. My bones grow brittle, resentful. The prime of life passing by without song or anchor. What marks time when there is no momentum? I miss having a Dad to call when I need steering home. I am 29, and a half-orphan. I am 32, and a mother. I am … Continue reading Function
As Above, So Below
Everything we hold dear is being churned under the sea. Will we guard each other in the ocean deep—or flail below, sink, and sleep?
A Shadow Self
I look into the abyss and remember when I left my shadow for her, to feed.The abyss mothers well: shadow’s horns arebigger than dreams. Turning empty sockets to the skies, she basks in lost memories. “I cannot quite remember — but I know I’m coming home.” Horns piercing flesh, an unmaking for two. She turns … Continue reading A Shadow Self
Pasiphae never accounted for Poseidon—nor Daedalus
Small boat.Big wave.I thread my anchor through my intestines and throw myself out to sea. I don’t sink or swim.The water holds me and the land.The rope floats up,light as a feather.The anchor sinks low,stiff as a board.Rise, down, to swim with the fishes. Big fish. Small fish.Scared fish. Strong fish.
Another Mother
I don’t feel like singingOr writingOr workingOr beingBut I have to keep goingA small child relies on meto make the tacos and sing down the demons at night.But what a world I have brought him to. What hope can I havewhen I tuck him in at night knowing another mother somewhere is tucking in a … Continue reading Another Mother
Exit: Up and Out
It’s been ten years since I dry-aged my heart into diamond (lab grown in America). The divorce rate is 53%, and it’s hard out here for dreamers. You’re a stranger, now. And I’m stranger too. I can still remember — do you? How we used to laugh and dance and swoon? Late night drives and … Continue reading Exit: Up and Out
it doesn’t hurt anymore
Let’s both close the door, Leaving no way back through. My way to me, your way to you. Good hearts, but never could beat in sync. You only came back when I was taking flight. I never quite trusted that you’d stay. We were always just one unexpected breakup note away from something great So … Continue reading it doesn’t hurt anymore
to the bone 