Wednesday, August 27, 2014


Every word I write, is a love letter
to things I can never touch again
Every idea is a ship launched
from the sandy shore of the now

We kiss with forgetful tongues,
As hands renew an embrace
Friends recalled in warmth
Lovers rejoined in darkness

For though the present prints memories
as sheet music for waterfalls
When we meet. . . deseo mía
steam churns, from our presses

white sheets, smoke, crisp and burn
intricately inked, endlessly possible
I am a dandelion in the cold desert
before our rolling, nuclear tidal wave

No comments:

All works Copyright 2013 Shou Yu Qun!