Jae Ming Jue

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A poet is a dethroned king sitting among the ashes of his palace trying to fashion an image out of the ashes.

- Khalil Gibran (via aninsufferableknowitall)

Writing Exercise 7

your face, buried into my thigh,
as giggles ripple through
my body, you rolling
your face, peering out
and up to me

such blue waters
I love to drink deeply

the inquisition you harness
at everyday things

fingers
digging through
the soil
we have laid

you strip me down
to the essence of truth
bones laid bare

wrapped in your arms
I find your mommy
childish, giggly
pigtails and all

it is you
it is her
it is us.

Sep 8

Practice Session 6

I need to know

     the way things will be,

The perfection

     I believe

that can be made

     with all the right choices

that elude me.

Practice Session 5

The heat of my eyes

      still smolders.

Cold, hard, ice

     does nothing

          against a jaw

                of tension.

The taste of car exhaust

    lingers in the back

        of my throat, raw                  still

from a night of murmurig             dead

       silent yowls.

I want to let it be

      but the engine continues to run

and I run, I run…

Sep 5

The tree lay down
on the garage roof
and stretched, You
have your heaven,
it said, go to it.

- William Carlos Williams, The Hurricane