If you’re draped in red because of the day; if you’re awaiting the delivery of flowers, chocolate, balloons, or some other external token of affection today
Year: 2012
love songs 4 no 1
Four walls and an echo
Down a long and distant hall
Four intents and no passenger
And a self-constructed wall
not ready yet
The alien greenery just outside my door is already blooming. But wait. It’s still winter.
blackened History
An embryo with a bloodied nose
Paraplegics with painted toes
Diaspora with nowhere to go
And stranger fruits still unexposed
fine day for a Funeral
Dearest, if you’re reading this
I may be already dead
My wrists are already red
The fish are already fed
“Hope is but a waking dream”
That’s what Aristotle said
far
Vexed to perplexed
To what happens next
Should I expose my belly
Or Kevlar my chest?
the power of words
I love words. They can be powerful. This short film is an amazing example of that.
eighteen years ago
18 years ago on January 19, 1994, I was a brand new Dad to a drooling, yellow-faced, tiny-toed little boy. My namesake was both a blessing and another chance to get it right. Before he was old enough to do much more than eat and poop and cry (sometimes in that order), he taught me something extraordinary – how to love unconditionally.