Bicycle

Pedaling on a blue bike, paean of breezy winds bumping along the road

Rumbling sounds of SUVs and pick up trucks passing by, rowdy kids jumping into the lake half naked

Roaring laughter fading away, riding down a long lonely road in between the animate and inanimate nature

Blazing through a carpet of gold laden by the bleeding yolk of the sunset

Rolling stone within the heart spins faster and faster, unleashing the monster hunkered for a thousand of years

Then — whirl — and — crash.

A reaper stands on the door expressionlessly peaking its bald skull over the door sill.

Like a dusky cloud on a simple summer night.

6.17.2020

24 hours

At first, it’s too long,

Then later, it’s too short.

Just as you’ve turned your 4th page of your moleskin notebook with a pilot G-2 0.5 pen,

It’s 7:30 PM and now you push the floor away from your chest as hard as you can

Then a question arises: “is an isolation a poison?”

Panic sinks in, four limbs plunging in

To the ocean of screens spinning in

The seconds, minutes, hours, and days

But remember, the time won’t stay.

6.15.2020

Ticket

Everyone has their last shot

To shoot at someone

And everyone is pointing their target with their weapon at all times.

No one knows when it will trigger,

And no one knows when they’ll change their target.

Whether what comes out of their weapon is a teardrop, am innocent smile, or a sharp loaded question, no one knows.

You kneel and pray that you’ll come out of safe and sound.

But the rule is, everyone points to something at all the time.

6.14.2020

Song

A summer night, as tree branches thread throughout the dark sky salted with stars,

The whole world swayed as the hammock weaves by thousands of threads swayed

Crimson ambers of cigarette quickly falling through the wholes, barely missing the threads,

Like an accident, falls into the wine glass,

Bursting with flame that cannot contain itself

I don’t care if it hurts

I wanna have control

So the song went, as the alcohol got thicker and hotter.

6.12.2020

Clouds

Wind blows, sky darkens, air weighs heavier, making rumbling sounds like an abdomen about to have terrible bouts of diarrhea

A man in a cave contemplates whether to venture outside or hunger inside

Will the rain soak my socks? Will I shiver with hunger? Will I be fatigued with bone-piercing cold?

A man in a cave realizes a bucket of honey he saved deep inside the cave two years ago

He immediately digs further inside the cave, pushing through even the walls shelling him from the rain and the elements.

Soaked in rain and shivering with freezing hands, he dug up the bucket, started sucking on the mellifluous globs.

Already forgotten all about the rain and the cold.

6.11.2020

Hummingbird

Hummingbird, what’s her sense of time?

If she can flutter her wings in a millisecond,

Can she feel each flap of her wings in the wind?

When a glorious, or tragic, moment approaches her,

How quickly can she feel it in the air?

Will she flee or grit through the dare?

Hummingbird, what’s her sense of time?

I wonder, if chance be that she’ll be around

To show a dash of a sunshine in her crown.

6.10.2020