Human Obstacles

A dozen hands
Tugging on my clothing
Restraining me
As I try to break free
To run to my Destiny

Must I wait till I break free
Or strip
And run nude publicly
To get to my Destiny
By a riskier journey?

These Hands of Late

There hasn’t been a lot of magic
In these hands of late

They haven’t folded much
Or handwritten much
They haven’t painted much
Or drawn much
Or strummed much
Or played much
Or sewn much
Or spun much
Or cooked much
Or snapped much

As such

They don’t feel like much

My Broken Language

My Broken Language

A memoir about others
In the words of its author
Quiara Alegría Hudes

A memoir about others

A memoir about others


Effortless Micropoetry

A lot of micropoetry I read
Seem so effortless
Not in terms of ease
But lack of work put into it

Poems of Refrain

Many of my poems
Are not inspiration
But rather things in life
I find myself saying often
Until I realize it
At which time
I get them into verse
And magically
Seem to forget them soon after

Unofficially 50

I turn 50
Cause my ID
Suggests otherwise

It was my family
Who told me so
For they know
How this became so 

My Element

Titanium is my element

It contains my childhood name
Ti Tan
And almost follows that with i am

It is light and strong
Like I am
And doesn’t melt easily
Like I don’t

What’s your element?

Art Procreation

Art is a form of procreation
In that it can inspire new art
After it meets a new artist
Who is moved by it in some way 

Discovering Prose Poets

I love discovering unknown poets
The kind unknown to themselves
All because they didn’t line break
Their prose appropriately

I call them
Who write prosetry

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