A hand is the platform.
The universe sits on it.
To see the world around
You will need an imaginative eye.
I only know how to speak plainly.
I write confessional poetry.
I don’t know how to gloss anything over
and I never want to.
I prefer the rash and concrete.
The ushering of reality.
It’s written on my face,
insanities on display.
I’ll tear open the wound,
stretch it out,
rake up what’s inside,
leave you the remnants
I never have to ask,
“May I speak plainly?”
Where I’m From
I am from a happy place,
with songs, foods and gifts.
People are singing, drinking and laughing.
There are beautiful lamps on the top for lighting people who want to have fun.
Where I’m from the rice is the main menu,
the foods are all tasty.
I am from New York, Manhattan, Little Italy for now
from old wood stairs to the fourth floor.
I am also from GuangZhou, PanYu, QIFU,
from rock stairs to the sixth floor.
Where I’m from
has a big TV, big bed, and a medium size desk.
The reading light is the best
with yellow color to make the room warm, pleasant and sweet.
Who else is in the room?
My dear mother.
Full of color,
Full of light,
Giving positivity to the world,
Never asked for a hand,
Never once disrespectful,
Full of good vibes,
Full of laughs,
Full of smiles,
Why’d you have to go?
What was the reason,
Was your purpose to hep us be better?
If so, you were nothing less than perfect,
Once so down to earth, now so far away from it,
Why’d you have to go? Happy soul…?
More than forty students have visited the coffee house so far this year. Here are a few of us!
Coffee House students visited the Young Lords Exhibit at the Bronx Museum of Art on October 16th and wrote poetry there in response to visual pieces.