share till the time falls in a crumbling mess
share the laziness in memories of sound sleeping
share a hand full of memories barely
share the night of endless butterflies
(in our stomach)
barely and it was day
share till the time falls in a crumbling mess
share the laziness in memories of sound sleeping
share a hand full of memories barely
share the night of endless butterflies
(in our stomach)
barely and it was day
You shall walk alone in the dark
Tripping on your own thoughts
To after rise
Beneath the Sunlight
You will set free the truth
Allowing the vines of others to latch onto
The souls you’ll find
Residing in the Clouds and the Leaves
you touch it
and know its eyelids
made of coral
more beautiful than jade
you drank
straight from the bottle
but choking a little on the poetry
it in a scuffle fell, broke
into shards
cutting the skin
hence each time you want to love
you bleed
to death…
Your heart
trimmed in snowflakes
imprinted
speckled
The moon was bright red. My fingers in the dirt. The lumps of soft earth broke away, revealing a tongue that has disintegrated, turned black. My useless tongue. The tongue that could not keep its word. Then suddenly there it was, I discovered another tongue by it. It was tarried by the soil, but it was still clear that it was still fresh, its flesh damp with blood. I was very confused, for sure I had never buried such a tongue. Who’s tongue is this? Where did it come from? Why would anyone want to cut their tongue off and bury it as I did?
Võ Thị Như Mai, the poet, my compatriot from Western Australia. Where Margaret river flows with fine Australian wine.
I’m thankful for her kind words in the vernacular of my mother’s tongue.
Always grateful,
Trâm
I came across
quickly across
someone’s shadow
frozen solid on the ground
a shadow
not mine.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1KwIDQgfozTHFkcw9Hr9EFC9JMtyevdoj/view?usp=drivesdk
A snow freckleface
taking up half of a hallow spirit
with one sole purpose through time
stripping the liberty of those in the streets
how could you not know that I love
the glaring night sharp prickly and sad
numbing pain in each ray of morning light
the orange-yellow laced with lonely purple
it left you in anger alone
đầu năm
vẽ một vị sư
…
oil.on.canvas.đtc.2.2020
leaving work in the afternoon, cutting through a patch of snowed in forest. home, turned on the yellow light, drew the portrait with fingers still stiff with the cold … “who’s aware that they’ve turned grey only because they love the dying light of a candle the forest late at night by the cold dead […]
Oil on canvas by đtc
The rain (falling)
The wind (blowing)
The clouds (drifting)
Between day and night
Life
Between you and me
A verb
Love
Repeatedly
After each consecration
When I’m blue
Will you be true
As if on cue
Sit here by this stool
http://etetet.net/upload/dinhchinh/MP3/nw.mp3 đi vào rừng tuyết sáng nay …illustration.đtc
tuyết vẫn rơi …
head towards the Sun
crawl across the dark valleys
I’m steeped in the deluge
the arid sunlight, a new season