Encounter | Poem

He stared at the old man sitting at a small table in the temple, that is the atrium of the Promenada Mall, sipping coffee.

Immoral Kiss: Two Poems

Turning colours in my mouth, words sticking to my teeth and tongue, I pass through my days. In corners of warmth, I sit gently down and acquaint myself to strangers.

Death by Mango

My mother's doctor died. He knew he was on his way out, so he admitted himself to the hospital where he spent saving or easing lives consoling the old and infirm,

In the Valley that Day

Jawless face, a frilled beauty of your body finning in the blue water. Skull roof of a moment of bones, slowly shifting within our bright bodies while we wade through our schooling tide of conflict.

A Vulture’s Bone

When flowers bowed their heads for night and hell heaved from infants’ lungs, finger pads pressed on beveled holes along a vulture’s bone.


The mast tied upon my back, I trust the wind much more than my hungry ear tilted to a far horizon to devour the siren’s call