Ricepaper, ricepaper!

softly sweet

oh so meek

that evanescent scent

you can’t notice it until he’s in your arms



Such a small man

(really, he’s tiny

unflaggingly petite)

hugging him makes you feel

like an elephant trying to hug a mouse



But then he tries to squeeze

And that’s what makes you really smile

Like bonsai tree or petrified forest

there is a deep ancient strength to him

old stories in his veins, knowledge dripping from his brain

words oil-slicked with memories

(the heavy smoke of once unintelligible hopesĀ )



And as waves crash down on you

(all your love for him)

you breathe in all your joy

he kisses your chin

standing on tip-toe



Ricepaper, ricepaper!

This is what friendship smells like.


Spring Break (a poem)

I am so used to seeing you
Not just in earthen form
Of solid flesh and taupe silver hues

In softly laden aural presence
when I walk down to the science



I can feel where you’ve walked
I can hear the whispers where you’ve talked
Small echolocations of
an initial reverberation

quicksilver dripping from where your intellect has spent itself on vast contemplations of the deep relations

between the creatures
between the lines
of forests and books

I am so used to being there
on the mini-street

Where you really live

and just feeling your sunshine essence
Like so much silver cobweb

left behind



little spiders.