Migration

The ghettos have graffiti here, Unlike the plush Colombo 7 restaurants. The only difference between the citizen And the illegal, is what time you come out, And for the illegal alien, it is after twilight. Here you have the dichotomy, Those whose lives appreciate in a new land Buying one’s way to happiness And the…

Moonscape

There is magic in rods and cones, That suck light and make windfalls, Of acetylcholine, swallowing the beauty on offer. And through the cloud cover, Like through a magician’s hat, A rabbit emerges, trapped inside a circle Decanting moonbeams through a funneling pupil, For the audience to embrace The paltry traffic of light, Making impulses…

Tree House

The tree house sits on a giant Kottang tree in the backyard. A playhouse, a play pen for a little child And a gadget-rich den for inner-child. It seems What makes a child a dweller inside a tree house, sculpts A man with a little foggy heart, misted in nostalgia Of how once things were,…