Cigarette Span You roll and burn a cigarette from beginning to end. I watch your planet orange glow and burn. You’re safe in your train of thoughts. Suits me fine. I don’t want more. I’m your one-minute neighbour, friend sharing shelter as this rain holds on.
My hands are my heart or my heart is my hand hiding the fingers in the soft of my palm. You cannot read the lines on my palms, but feel the strength in my arms. I am the clay man with strong muscles sitting in front of a kitchen table in New York, in Mexico, in Paris.Continue reading “A poem for Gabriel Orozco: the global artist”
Click here to read Tammy Ho and Yip Wai Shan’s article on my poem, ‘Companions’, in Cha Asian Literary Journal. What do you think of the dolls in the poem?