by Portia Choi | Aug 8, 2015 | Poems
(the woman asked the famed psychiatrist) The cat at night in Malibu Makes a soft sound As he moves along the ground, Echoes the rumble, the growl and pound Of the Cat to Cathay— When the Moon ruffles his fur In a silver streak down the dark, She is stirring, subduing,...
by Portia Choi | Aug 8, 2015 | Poems
Make me a poem A great white poem words full of rushing staccato measures patterns for flying and movement of grasses— or round, like the path of the tuning-fork’s sound, round and liquid and gold. Give me the voices of wandering people, let them incense me with...
by Portia Choi | Aug 8, 2015 | Poems
Do not remove the heart. Extract the brain through open nostrils, but leave the paradise within my heart of hearts. It is a point so hot it would burn your fingers. This pulse-point is the drum of Shiva calling Shakti –and when she dances my heart rises to the...
by Portia Choi | Aug 8, 2015 | Poems
Your blue-veined hands swept all things into light; a box of apricots, a peeled grape, a sick dog that had to be chloroformed, a child to be led down hallways of ideas up staircases of words –anything to be fixed, mended, made out of nothing. How could you whirl...
by Portia Choi | Aug 8, 2015 | Poems
Goodness flowed from her fingers; blossomed in dresses made out of nothing, in fresh juice over ice (hand-chipped for my fevers), in home-made noodles and chicken broth with delicate chicken feet. The same patient fingers traced words as she read, and placed dominoes...
by Portia Choi | Aug 8, 2015 | Poems
remember that lilacs enfolded the night in a soft June kiss, a never-never land of love in a candy store. They floated like clouds of stingless bees in mesmeric rivers of honey around your tender face. There was a sound like water falling or clusters of little bells...
by Portia Choi | Aug 8, 2015 | Poems
The art student called his water-color sketch “Girl with Leaves,” sold it for lunch money. Long curls relax over her shoulder. Her wide white hat’s not drawn, but framed by sunlight; the shadows all are pools of sun and leaves; you know she’s firmly seated, but...
by Portia Choi | Aug 8, 2015 | Poems
In the center where nothing pulls her apart she lets go of chicken-fat indecisions; like Baudelaire dreaming the smokestacks of Paris she no longer flinches at her fate. Through dreams astound with their cryptic knowledge of details from her daytime world they keep...
by Portia Choi | Aug 8, 2015 | Featured Poet
Above watch Don Thompson read his poems that describe the beauty of Kern County. For the first featured poet, we honor Don Thompson who has been publishing since the early 1960’s with several books and chapbooks since 2000. He was born in Bakersfield, California, and...
by Portia Choi | Aug 5, 2015 | Poems
Upon this green remembrance a thousand flowering hours have shaken gold-sweet bloom into our differing rooms, and one green miracle shelling love out of the pod of time frees your world from mine.
