10:58am

body, you know when day is done, but my mind knows better

body, you play house with time while my mind reads the sunset as it would the sunrise

we spend a lot of time reading the sky together

11:11am

clouds are ghosts of a (moving the) sky i thought i knew

my little patch of blue, slowly being compromised

still, the rain can't get started, and it's too exhausting to be known

10:15pm

leaves were talking while we wrote

i am trying to pre-serve language as sound before language can be preserved as words, erased

leaves are always talking as we write

9:53am

sitting in home, home is a thereness i tiptoe through

careful, not to touch, not to disturb

even ghosts leave prints behind

8:25am

dear mirah, if california drifts past japan one day, know that an earthquake unsettled us and i'm just passing through

dear adam, if you see an atlantic avenue ghost train running, know that i'm aboard for a transcontinental journey of passing through

dear karen, if you find me wandering in the ether of seoul and san francisco, know that i need a hand if i'm going to pass through you

9:33am

it seems the ghosts i knew have superimposed themselves onto you and you and you

let's use our keen sense of memory to haunt side by side

my real family, together we will learn to tend to our ghosts

4:45pm

sunlight (dear, time) clocks in (i miss(ed) my being in you) from window (to window)

a pigeon lands, (What time?) sights pulled over to the (blue skies!) fire escape

cooing (i am tired (yawns) of trying to fit myself in you (in her)), it watches seagulls on rooftops below

9am

the fallen palm leaves in my backyard were full of hidden black widows

i dreamt about a blue and red spider, making me a fake superhero painlessly

trees line a few blocks of a long street that isn't mine, bowing away from apartment buildings, filling with limelight

10:10pm

ghost, i see you. now, go.

ghost, i in you. now, let's go.

ghost i am past in you. now, let go.

12:25pm

i dreamed myself into a mirror and when she recognized me i told her to wake up

please be patient because my mind is a controlled burn of an alarm clock

i know i have to give you my ghosts

11:00pm

even the fewest of friends ask you to tend to them

so i have to learn to love shaving my legs

just as i've grown to love washing my dishes

9:53pm

spineshift, slight crack in clock

clickchime, floor(wall ceil)ing snipwrist

sounds of settled ghosts or ghosts settling around me

7:20pm

she would cut my hair wordlessly into a thick horizon across my back leaving me with a quiet and unimpressive sunset

i was born a year later than expected on the day gold was discovered at sutter's creek which a korean ajeuma tells me is my symbol during a saju reading one year ago on my birthday

now another she cuts away only what is needed to unlock my waves "your hair grows normally" she explains and i want to call her mother

10:10am

the jonathan apple tree in my childhood backyard uprooted itself from the weight of a grafted wine sap branch offering too many apples

this happened several years ago. but, only my family knows. and i wonder how many

people will know when the voluminous general sherman sequoia tree uproots itself

an urban seed planting is a blind re-rooting

hands, rustle up through topsoil

whisper yourselves to sunlight

a fiery fog too late for its own morning

blue patching, sun punching but still, unrecorded mindphotos

a panoramic woodcut graphs a sky of time into a window opening

a few fingers felled

for a day is (of) light foliage

ever greening at the tips

rivery of veins are blood mined for

narratives of time, speak me through

a current caught, nicked

white bird stirrings no shadows attached

my heart beats an open fish mouth o for breath

outside of fire escape, i live, rephotographing in my ghost culture

by the eighth count of breath in bed i always forget to make it past

shots of blood to my heart how i wish i could see

walking down the woods of my will become day