Death Anxiety

It was the middle of night
when breaths stir air slowly
and nightmares descend
I was awake

When light goes out it can return
and water flows all over the world
above ground, below ground, it flows.
What of me?

That night horror clapped its hands
and sudden black draped my eyes
what will happen of me
when I die?

How can I ever say again,
"Life goes on," when it will stop
and I will be gone. How can I ever say,
"Later"?

What are the moments before death like?
Is it like sleeping, as they say?
Is it a silent scream? Is it peace?
Is it decay?

Will I rise and fall like water?
Will I simply become dust?
My self. My will. What will become
of "Me"?

Dragonheart

What thinking of you does to me

Breathing sulfur from an exhaled flame

The plumes curl over my head

twins of fire plunder my chest

Inhale, exhale

I've always thought, "Conflagration,

how painful to be scorched

much more to be entombed

in a spiral of fire." Ha!

This is joy.

Your breath sets me glowing from within

When you rose above the horizon

With wings and claws and fangs

Magnificently, like the moon.

Below you this creature stirred

And gaped and laughed and cried.

My arms reached for your embrace,

Frisky as a monkey.

Yes, breath fire. Fly steep

Fly hard. Fly strong.

My heart, you are my heart.

My joy, you are my joy.

I rush up to meet smoke and heat

Love, without ashes.

Copyright 2015 Cristina T. Cheng

posted from Bloggeroid

posted from Bloggeroid

Message Sent

Tap tapping the sound is silent 
but in the synapses within this device

I imagine arcs of light and heat
whorls of energy you recognize
and only you.

In another plane there is a song
not silent but angry 
doomed nonchalant angry
fated capsizing.

Pull down the bar at the top
long-press to refresh memory

at the ready it waits 
for my electronic alphabet
missive to space.

Where does energy go?

Inside an artificial mind
do dreams collapse from chaos?
Or do they find proof?
Dreams of windows and bars
and vistas so far away.

I know this won’t get lost.

In numbers I trust.
Numbers do not doom the hopeful
and the mad.

My fingerprints send these words
to you. Long press. Refresh.

Copyright Cristina Cheng 2015

For F.A.M.

I caught you right
At the back of my throat
Where you sang
A rhapsody in E

My breath
Passed through
Your voice
It was nice

Copyright Cristina Cheng 2014

Glimpses

Frame this
A lea for grazing mouths
On a plateau
Clouds on blue sky
You and I
Away from the maddening.

But you are
Looking to the tree line
For crows
And I am seeking earthworms
To feed them.

It's not all green
Blue and white.
Sometimes it's crimson
Under the blanket.

I miss black
And you miss yellow
As egg yolks fresh
Into the silver pan.
I wish for coffee
To embitter this.

Sunrise sunset
And treetops bow
The wind takes its time
You and I gazing
At the horizon.

Frozen in time.
Bleeding in time.
Staunched in time.
Always in time.
Still.

Im not holding my breath
When I close doors
you've left open
Or pick up after you
Fall asleep holding the remote

Breakfast is eggs and bread
With blessed coffee
Work is a ticking clock
Rides are to and from
One concrete tomb to another
Evenings drown in stillness

Still when I look at you
From across the room
I'm not holding my breath
I'm breathing.

On Cheating

Why not?
Purpose and doubt
Form a trail down her face
And fade into
Thin collarbones.

She may as well
Be on the moon.

Cracks on sidewalks
Are craters for her
Or portals to a world
Where bones break even.
Whatever for

If we cannot?
It's a small thing.

Really, why seek
What is in the hearth?
Remains of another day
Another night
Old life.

She is a walker
Without a helmet
Oxygen on exhale
Long road breathed in.
She is. She was

Lost long ago
Lost again
In every blank roaming
A closed door.
Why not? What for?