I don't want artificial intelligence, artificial pain, artificial love. Even the artificial flowers about us have grown weary and are dying for a touch of real mist, a drop of real rain. I don't want artificial light and artificial birds singing and aritificial poems recited by artificial poets. I don't want artificial love and friendship... Continue Reading →
Plain Old Fashioned Donuts from a Cambodian Owned Donut Shop
With the old fashioned donut in my mind, it rolls 3000 miles and I follow counter clockwise and come to a Cambodian owned donut shop, the place with the best donuts. I buy 4 and the cashier puts it in a brown paper bag. She smiles and I tell her I can't get donuts like this in North Carolina. She wishes me a good day. I leave and the oil from the old fashioned donuts seep into the paper bag leaving spots.
Saturday Feb. 25, 2pm, Union Grove Missionary Baptist Church 901 Robinson Terrace Hendersonville, NC 28792
Asian-American/African-American Skin Stretched 3000 Miles From North Carolina to San Francisco
I bring my Asian-American, African-American skin and stretch it, knead it; taught by its tautness the poems written beneath. I am on a journey back to my skin, my San Francisco skin after being away for 4 years. I live in North Carolina, the western part of the state after a lifetime in San Francisco.... Continue Reading →
Airport Music On the Way to San Francisco
Yes, I remember you shooting black and brown people in the street. I remember that the city forgot its people, forgot who it was. But in this area of suspended aeronautic animation, I remember the people, the poetry, the music, the fire of Frisco that made me a poet.
Manong in Hendersonville, NC
(Author's note: Manong--A term of respect when addressing an older Filipino man. It means older brother, or elder; one that has lived through the hardships of life) No matter where I go or where I move, a manong will always find me No matter where I'm working or what daydreams creep behind me he is... Continue Reading →
Familiar food for the Latino/a/x Community in Hendersonville
From Mexico, El Salvador, Guatamala And their nopales tongues sing nopales songs and speak nopales poetry and rituals And from their hands come: Chayote Jalapenis Peras Limon Cebolla Banana Yucca Tomatillos Frijoles Arroz In a place called Hendersonville
The DMV of Books
In Charles Bukowski’s novel, Post Office, the opening line reads, “It began as a mistake.” I’d come across Post Office while working as a donations clerk and cashier at a very well known thrift store—part of a thrift store chain that stretched its thrift store goodness from coast to coast. Donations poured in daily, everything... Continue Reading →
Listen and Be Heard TV: Crystal Cauley of the Black History Collective of Henderson County Speaks at the People’s Museum on Black History
Listen and Be Heard TV: Crystal Cauley of the Black History Collective of Henderson County Speaks at the People's Museum on Black History for MLK Day 2023.