Ode to Colada

Colada, café
Cubano, shots
pulled like redeye
flights, late night

and short sips,

The Styrofoam
cup roasts
with Bustelo
metal and
stirred sugar,

until it blends
into my blood-
stream, caffeine



Kiss the lilac licks
that clack under
syringed leaves.

Two-winged seeds
grain vulgar cereal,
mauve and mildew
residue, lidded lilac.

Dew sides the plant,
resides inside the dime-
wide lotus needles.

Slotted shrub bleeds
lilac. The syringe stings,
lotus needles breathe
cerise flour,

crunches under
soil, running corolla
off on a split doze.


They say change
can hang like a cage
in mid-air. The change
you want cannot always
age you.

Have you ever thought
about a different life?

Not the office job,
mindless boredom,
with the nice title.

last minute, you’ll
apply to what matters
most: MFA. Most Feel

Alive from this. You
follow what you want,

because you allow yourself
to realize that you are old
enough now to make

your own decisions,
your own miracle, favored

To Scold with Scalding

Sizzled grease lines
my hands, slippery
oil tending the slivers
of potatoes, sopped.

They steam in my
mouth, breathing
out vaporous heat.

I’m impatient,
stuffing the wedge
in my mouth, so

the Yukon Gold
punishes me, scorches
my tongue. Practically

turns it to gold
with the taste of
blistered oil and garlic.

The next slice, I’m
more cautious. I
break it apart

and watch the
mushy insides
scald transparent.


Middle Mist

Middlemist red,
jade vine.

In the middle of
misted Philliphines,
jungles redden, devaju-
ed plants, elf-pointed,

curling lime luminosity.
The claws feed bats, droop
down with pollinated
lids, sided time mimed

with queen of the night,
kadapul night pulled
and packed dark, lapped

in the flower, rare bloom
breeding heaven.

Recipe for a Spell

Stir the crust of Witch’s Ladder,
until it ascends heat, vaporous.

The butter will melt into oil.
Scoop out the lemon peel
and ignite sandalwood onto
it, until cream turns chiffon.

Pull out an onion from
the stew. The residue
will bleed out dragon’s blood.

Let pot simmer, then flake
With cinnamon grains.

Flatten dough onto pie
tray. Pour broth inside,
while letting valerian
petals float to the top.

Cover the top part,
until the pastry gulps,
conjuring encantation.


View changes depending on the angle.
You watch me through the mirror,
hard, fall in love with my dangled

image. My hair falls droopy, mangled,
yet you still accept it, smooth it out, clearer
view that changes depending on the angle.

I walk out in jeans and T-shirt, entangled
in society’s side-eyed disapproval, not nearer
to your hard fall, your love with my dangled

sloppiness. I kiss you sloppy and tangle
my arms with yours, you are dearer
without your view changing depending on the angle.

I angle myself to run away from strangled
conventions of what I should I do, adherers
trying to break hard, the fallen love with my dangled

personhood. Expect me quiet, and I’ll jangle
surprise in your face, thunder intensity, turn cheerer
trying to break hard to fall in love with myself, even when dangled.