When I was just myself, not latched onto and not stalking my own breath, I was not aware of how much I could unfold and conform the male race to my recesses… >> Read more My poems in The Writing Disorder, a literary journal that features award-winning writers, poets, and artists: Happiness Stillborn My Breasts… Read More Happiness
we felt so grown up when we were kids and now wonder that we are so old when we’re not yet grown we started losing our parents to time and frailty. in the cycle of life things go upside down sometimes you rush d o w n the rabbit hole into a world… Read More midnight in wonderland
Seven-and-a-half ~ Yes, we all have our job. Yours is to study, mine is to cook and teach you, Daddy’s is to make money. Huh. I have the hardest job of all. ————— Umma, what is the bottom number? The lowest number….the floor? *Smile* It’ll be a negative number, right? Way below zero. Only God… Read More Words Between Mom and Boy, Part 3
The one thing she wasn’t known for was a beautiful face but people – men in particular – were arrested by her presence, charisma, eloquence, and intellect. Cleopatra was captivating with a beauty only she could claim. What is the greatest compliment you have received as a woman or paid one? Though I have never… Read More The Woman You Praised
Back in high school, a good friend said after meeting my family, “Your mother is so beautiful. What happened to you?” I laughed. Good question. Part of Mom’s looks have been their enviable resilience to time, something she never took for granted. Korean women remain vigilant against the insistence of gravity on their face, and… Read More Men and Women: Another Difference, Part 2
STUDENT Art A Geography A History A Latin A First Lunch A+ Math A Music A+ Phys Ed A Second Lunch A+ Public Speaking A – Reading B Science A Writing B+ TEACHER Beautician C (Can pull off a B when she crams) Dr. Mom A- Homemaker C Homeschooler A- Nutritionist A Tired, crazy… Read More Report Card
my boy i am the shade of his sun afraid he will burn, but i am more than the smell of the bosom he has learned, i am the album of regrets and and deficiency and forgiving the roots that climb deep down parents’ omissions i am the… Read More st r u gg ling artist ii
Every time I drive by the church where it happened, I still look away. I drown the memory in a parade of new thoughts and have managed to take Hidden Valley with the casualness I run through any other road. That evening six years ago, I was leaving the church with my toddler in my… Read More It’s Always My Fault
When he walked in this evening, Daddy wanted to take his boy to the park. As I changed Little Man on the landing, he wrapped himself around my neck and kissed me. He smiled, “I will never let you go.” My eyes smarted. The sacred moment hurt – a swelling tight at the edges. I… Read More A Boy’s Love on the Landing
Your toe broke through the sole. We peeped into a row of run-down restaurants for a new shoe and then stood beneath the eaves, watching cloudburst pound the pavement. I cradled you — seven years tall. I would carry you in the rain. You grew a few years smaller in my arms before slipping into… Read More Carry You In The Rain
A Holistic Journey 