Poetry Bomb: Saturday, November 2nd 2013


Hi readers (if you still happen to be out there.) It’s been a few years since I’ve posted anything. I’m taking a healing through writing class, taught by my dear friend Caits Meissner, called “Digging Deep, Facing Self.” Today’s challenge is to publicly post a piece of writing in order to practice vulnerability. I haven’t touched this blog for so long, I almost forgot it was here.  Perfect opportunity to dive back into my poetry, which I also haven’t written in several years until I started this class…

Yesterday’s Terracotta 

My mom, and her siblings

never enough for seven mouths

the abundance of laughter

from cat and mouse games

Grandmother collected oil in a can

Come Chinese New Year, their decadent fried meal served

family style

1986: Chinese New Year


my uncle threatening to pierce my ears with chopsticks,

cousins laughing

me crying hysterically as

mom fed pungent vinegar down my throat to flush down the bone.


At three, I had a recurring dream that my parents and I were being pursued by men on horseback. They chased us through the mountains, inside of a temple in search for the magic peach in our possession.


Mother’s father: thousands of photographs burned in the name of revolution

pressed deep inside the earth with his bones and all of the faces from his village.

Father’s father: red army general, rotting from own tree branch marked “traitor”


Their wives broken.


Decades later, walking down hidden dirt streets

of what used to be known as the “hutongs”

in the middle of a new metropolis

built on top of

what is ashen and grey beneath the new paved concrete

Thousands of horses and solemn soldiers lining a path for the emperor

one of the oldest cities of human civilization

formerly named Chang An–Eternal Peace
That is what they named my father.