from where you stand (expanded)

from where you stand
I wear an armor
of steel I am
protected and
protecting a paragon
of man confident valiant
content sufficient
and superficial

I am what I am
I remind
myself of it
as I stare into the mirror
hands at my hips
Chest out and
chin raised

ready

ready to take on a
new day
ready for
it all but
not ready for

you

because

there is a vacuum
under my breastplate –
an empty space
of nothing pain
a dark universe expanding
every time you crank
chewing and ripping
swallowing in gulps
more of my chest
imploding –

from inside pushing a
clenched fist out
against my throat
so I cannot swallow until
I cannot ignore
anymore and I have
to let go in a wild burst
that brings me down

fast and certain

I’m hollow
you know?
You can see
it if you
just look close
enough and

stare

stare true and
steady without
shame
and you’ll see

there’s nothing inside of me
except for what
wants you

so I hide it

I hide it with every
breath and movement
and tick and
mannerism
and way
my demeanor hides
what is inside

but

this armor is too heavy
it’s too much to carry
rip it off of me
cut it off of me
and stand back
– give me space
air I can’t breathe
around you

because I’m brimming with
gut and emotion
with tears and blood
and expectations

all I need is an
unexpected shake –
a touch from your
finger tips
I don’t
anticipate

a word from

your lips

I wasn’t ready
to hear

and it’ll gush
out of me an avalanche
of unfulfilled desires
feelings unrequited

you are hard to

let go

you are hard
to swallow

how can I be nothing
to someone
who is

everything

and still when you
smile

now

here

there and then

I remember why I
fell in love
and it’s enough
to raise my head
and gasp full
gulps of you

for a few moments
to fill my lungs

within my chest
within my breastplate

with air I can
breathe and
stand up

hold my self up in armor
valiant confident
sufficient and content

though still
but not

always superficial


Come, thou fount of every blessing

Come Thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise

Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount, I’m fixed upon it
Mount of Thy unchanging love

Here I raise my Ebenezer
Here there by Thy help I come
And I hope by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home

Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wandering from the fold of God
He to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood

Oh, to grace how great a debtor
Daily Im constrained to be
Let that grace now, like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Heres my heart, oh, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above

Come Thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise

Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount, Im fixed upon it
Mount of Thy unchanging love


What is mamihlapinatapai?

She brought her napkin down and quickly glanced across the table. It was only for a moment but this time she didn’t just look at me as she had done a hundred times before. This time, she was looking for something in me and her eyes slowly penetrated the artificial and protective cloud of disinterest that I had set between us. She was hoping for some form of confirmation, ceaselessly wondering for only a moment if I felt it too. That’s when it happened. By the time I realized what she was looking for, mamihlapinatapai had taken over the moment. It is that thick and palpable fear of being controlled by consequences that keep us apart but also that undefined pleasure of taking a hold of and shaping time and a future that could be in our hands that kept us staring and wondering.


Creativity

Creativity comes early
in the morning

and often
in the middle of the night.

It pervades my dreams
and wakes me up with
heavy jolts.

More often than not
I choose not to answer the call
but when I do, I always regret
taking the trip without
a pen and paper
or a keyboard at my fingertips.

It rides me hardest
when all the world is asleep
during that space of time

when relationships seem
not to exist or at least not
be as real as they are

after the alarm clock
shakes and wakes
them from their slumber.


What I am today

If I am what I eat,
then today I am
orange chocolate
with chestnuts.

I am a strawberry
and mango smoothie
with a pinch
of condensed milk
and a tad of sugar.

I am two bottles of water.
I am beef with
curry potatoes
and boiled eggplant.

I am today’s vegetable.
I am rice.
I am a chicken wrap
and a Chinese hamburger
with too much ketchup.

I am tea.

I am bread
and a fried egg
and a slice of spam.

I am jiaozi
with vinegar
and peanut sauce.


Kairos in English Class, or The Story of the English Teacher Who Was Mistaken for a Rhetorical Clown: A Narrative Poem in Free Verse

When I’m dancing and singing
and acting like a clown,
My students love me —
“because you’re entertaining
and funny,” they say.

But as soon as I start talking
about the Greeks, about rhetoric,
about kronos and about kairos,
‘the opportune moment’ —
they fall asleep.

I drive the chalk deep into
the blackboard and watch the
white powder slowly cover
my hands, my hair
my shirt, and my pants.

I’m soaked in it —
the ephemera of teaching,
the mojo of learning,
the antidote of ignorance,
the genesis of thinking:
standing but swimming
in white chalk powder.

Falling knowledge
like December snow —
free for the taking,
highly expected
but severely
ignored.

“It’s too theoretical,”
they tell me.
It’s all too far removed
from their worlds
(or so they think)
and they doze off,
hanging their heads
upon their palms —
guillotines of thought.

And swiftly
they drift
into a
barren
and hollow
world
far away
from

the
utopia of

English
class.

Thank you.

Come again.

[Fervent Applause]