The Mosquitoes will Bite You (Bouncing as You Walk)

The Mosquitoes will Bite You (Bouncing as You Walk) – Oct. 18, 2019

The mosquitoes will bite you 
 you would say 
 when I was being too sweet 
 or more precisely 
  "tooooo sweeet" 
 arranged with ample repetition 
 an attempt to express  
 your ample happiness 
 happiness which caused you 
 to bounce as you walked 
 always on the balls of your feet 
 to always lift everyone up 
 and to always express 
  your gratitude in the form  
 of "how lucky we are" 
 wherever you and I shared  
 a moment which moved us 
 I can still hear you 
 clear as a bell 
 in the crisp autumn air 
 it feels thin 
 thinner than before 
 as if to suggest 
 that I try 
 passing through it would be easier 
 less atoms in my way 
 and you at the other end 
 bouncing as you walk 

In an Instant

In an Instant – Oct. 18, 2019

A poem can 
be observed
in an instant
but a poem
can also take
a moment
an hour, day, week, year
a lifetime
to record
just right
that’s what poetry is
retelling moments
best do it quickly now!

Note: I dont trust my memory. Some have told me it is sharp and accurate. Others have argued it is utterly flawwed. It is likely that they are all correct. That is why nowadays I prefer to travel with my small laptop always near me. My hands are awfully slow to write. The letters take ages to form and look all wrong. Nothing good seems to come when I write with my hands. A lot which should be included is lost, while a lot of what needn’t be there appears. Then there is the difficulty of deciphering the strange shapes later- when my memory, well intentioned as it may be, can only be partially relied upon. I think it is best, whenever possible, to create as soon as the moment strikes you.
I’m a photographer. I think poems, some poems- perhaps my poems, are much like photography. They are often made in the moment, their lenses pointed at the little things, so that the larger things might be brought more into focus.

Coffee Cup Revelation

Coffee Cup Revelation – Oct. 18, 2019

My hand knocked
against a cup of coffee
nearly empty
it rocked
teetering on its edge
threatening to give way
its liquid to spill onto the table
settling back into place
calmness born from chaos
my hand lifted the cup
poured its contents into my mouth
somehow I knew
there was just enough for one swallow
but the coffee remained
contained by the walls of my cheeks
and at the gate of my mouth
how powerful the moment
realizing that which could have been
chaos indeed
nearly became a problem
yet could be contained
given shape- briefly
and eventually vanish
with only the use of my mouth

Oh, the power of a mouth

Note: This is one of those poems, which came to me during the semingly insignificant event of nearly knocking over a cup of coffee, which was nearly empty. I was impressed by the fact that first, there was enough liquid within the cup to weigh it down enough so that it did not tip over. Secondly, I was further surprised when I discovered that the amount that was able to prevent the cup from falling, was enough to fit in my mouth, comfortably. My cheeks were not buldging, threatening to give way and have coffee spray all over the place.

It made me consider the power that the mouth has. Words must pass through the mouth. Air can be brought in by way of the mouth. Affection, in the form of a kiss, or a smile can be expressed by the mouth. In a way, the problem of an unstable situation (the coffee cup) was resolved by way of the mouth, with the hand acting as the necessary agent connecting the two. The whole moment felt like it illustrated a metaphor for conflict resolution. Simple, minimal action (by way of the hand) was used to facilitate a calm, beneficial resolution (consuming the drink).