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Showing posts from May, 2011

Welcome to Our Future Smart Home!

I really must have a piano, I said when I visited Heavenly Pianos
"Tokyo Summer, 1993" and "Mother's Lips" are accepted by Unshod Quills. Dena Rash Guzman from H.A.L Publishing is currently editing the first issue.

.....for y.h.

There is a bathtub in the parking lot.

I’m falling in love with an abstract
painting, you tell me. Your body

hisses in an August rain. We collect
dead cicadas in the bathtub

and sketch them for hours......This is a Tokyo
summer, 1993. A dandelion’s white seed softly

lands on the balcony. The cat
slashes open the window screen.

There is your head hanging by a curtain rod.

I don’t know how to live,
your mouth opens wide.

Dark and beaded rain
falls into the bathtub. I want to chop

off the cat’s legs and hollow
out its eyes. I’m craving

your warm body. Cicadas sing their silver song.
I love killing words.

.....after the tsunami in Japan

You have no father,
my mother said & wiped
my neck with a long
towel; I smelled the lavender
soap: bubbles on her
cheeks: the outline of her
lipstick: dark
purple around her lips;
they were unlike mine; I wanted
hers; I hated the garden
scent; no
lavenders please, I said;
just muddy
on blue vinyl sheets
at the flower
shop; sand & pebbles filled
my mother’s mouth; I bit
my lip: tasted blood.

The first draft on March 31.


When I was twelve, my grandfather took
me to a flower market. There were no
flowers, but dead bodies caked in mud
on blue vinyl sheets. I cleaned
my mother’s face with my handkerchief.

Every night, my mother boiled water
with a red kettle. A towel soaked
in the scalding basin. She wiped my neck,
cheeks, and behind my ears. She told me,
I am sorry you never knew your father.

After my bath, I sat in front of the mirror.
I touched my mouth, which is unlike
my mother’s. I grabbed her red lipstick. …
"7:30PM, RHAPSODY" was accepted by Alchemy Magazine of Literature & Art.


I pour oil. I fry perch,

minced onions and carrots.....and I
think of drowning in a car. My fists

bang on the windshield.

I haven’t turned off the stove.

My eyeballs float like loosed
white balloons. They search out

camellia in the water light. I must

recite Brahms’ rhapsody before my brain
numbs, before the perch shed their silver

scales in an upright piano

filled with darkening lake. No

bubbles. No words squeeze out of my throat.

I forget my Japanese name......I forget
I was once in my mother’s womb. My lungs

finally resign......Smoke alarm. I burned the fish.
It was a fantastic weekend. I had awesome Mexican Food at Javier's Sabor Mexicano on Friday. I had a 100% grass fed buffalo-burger at Whole Foods on Saturday. I went to find good deal spring clothes within $10 and found some perfect little shirts in the kids section of one of the stores. I had my favorite mocha at Seattle's Best Coffee. Well, it has been awful at my work for two months. I made tons of mistakes and am started to lose the company profit a little bit, something we always find out after the fact.

Actually, I do not know what I can do with a master's degree in English. I think that my job is probably the best current position because I can learn business from professional people. The business knowledge will be always useful in the artistic society or any field if I want to live with it. In addition, with my personality, I cannot hinge my financial security on writing alone. In every morning, I am not happy with a glass of carrot juice withRYVITA from the Great B…