With love

Poetry

I'm Very Very Sure You Don't Want To Be With Half-Crazy

Immobilized in my invention of armor,

Sometimes, I feel that there may be guided

Grenades pointed inward. Remember when

Dad used to throw up his arms in disbelief,

Ricocheting his vocal agony through the hallway?

You say you mean well,

But do you? 

We are involved in the slaughtering of sheep

Justifiable because we are hungry and also cruel.

I don’t see the flowers in the cracks, only the crack in the cracks.

Leonard!  I ask you! 

Who the hell is ever Suzanne? 

This is a sadness that doesn’t know itself.

What does it mean to wear your favorite red shoes

And finally believe yourself?

Elizabeth Hsieh