Poetry Chapbook is out on Amazon

For all you readers who have asked about where to get a hardcopy of my poetry, thank you for appreciating my craft. In honor of you, the chapbook is now out on Amazon and clicking on the link below takes you there.

Thank you for reading. Much love and wishing you peace, joy, and comfort this New Year’s 2015.

I Want You to Be Whole

Ginesthoi!

Alicia

Bali, Jan 2014

Paper Pigeons

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Once

And no
More

Rilke in the

rain
Kissing

In          evitable           tragedies
We

are little boys and         little girls

Who live to
Tell and
weave     s     t      o

r   i   e

s

Of  needs  and               w

ants

Shaped by

fear
And words
gifts                                 trust
respect                            honor;

Watching                       bridges burn
As we

sink;                                singing

Like

Once and

no
more;

And yet, we
dance                               in vases

to                                      gether

and a

part

For                                    ever.

Suddenly I Remember

I was washed up
at sea, shell cocoon
born of a tiger and
a lamb, the sand that
came out of my nostrils blew
into glass, amber, fossils with bees
collecting nectar,
trapped in remembering,
and forgetting.

When my father hands me his eyes,
I burn them into
the palms of my hands,
yellow, ochre, gold.
He puts me on a cliff of eagles.
I jump.

Horns of Babel and civilizations
trumpet and spill into the ocean,
onto shore as people, ships,
and gardens;
Commerce comes pouring out.
My father runs, my mother follows
into the highlands and cries into canyons
when she cannot find him.

It’s not as easy as it seems,
they bellow;
I wipe earth off my face and pull out twigs
from the soft of my heel.
I hear her.
I hear them.

I feel ridges of wings pushing
through flesh and skin
like a wisdom tooth.
My shoulder blade bleeds and
baptizes daisies into birth.
I sing.

Honeycomb drips off my fingers,
we eat, we eat, we throw ourselves off bridges,
we rush forward and our faces appear as stars
drumming like hammers into the black nothing of nails.
Loose, loose, my oldest friend.
We bloom into mountains, into shrines.

Alicia Khoo
Signal Hill, California
Oct 2013