Sorry my fridge is empty,

but I just

don’t like

the door,

to the arctic opening

when I could

feel safe

and warm.

Sorry my fridge is empty,

but I’d just

rather not see,

the cold peculiarities

nested

within me.

Sorry my fridge is empty,

you will just

have to accept

something from my pantry,

that I won’t

overprotect.

Dauntless butterfly

fluttering against the gale

Flourishing in glee

...

dewdrops of solace

will decorate spiders' webs

when the gloom besets.

Ich bin gange

Ich gehe weg

Je pars

行ってきます

I'm leaving

I don't know how else to say it.

Since I met her

I’m a metronome:

Ticking heart

keeping time with her

tickling gaze.

Chasing a secret

so salacious

yet only existing

between the pages.

She puts her crooked fingers

in my mouth

to catch me

when the current

drags me out.

An uncontrollable spur

tasting passion

trading words

in an empty room with her

before inevitably

Our lips

become predictable

and the pearl

drops from our clammy hands:

Relationship now visible.

I.

At the beach in the morning:

Feel the glinting magic

of the sand

and resonate

with the millions of minuscule

gleaming warm grains

compiling to form

a part of the world;

an element to more.

Hold this feeling

with fascination

as long as possible

until the spumous whispers

of the waves

say farewell for now.

II.

The return to daily life :

A To-Do list forms.

Obligations arise.

A gust of time

blows by

dizzying the day.

Following orders

of the imperious mind

perspective fades away.

III.

In the evening before bed:

Mind is running

a day ahead

until lassitude leads

to slumber but

before drifting into dreams

I notice the remnants of sand

on my clothes

and see the abyssal sky darkening

like a reminder to remember

that those moments

with no product or productivity

activity or reward

Those moments mean something

too.

A shadow flared in the corner of the room. The solid white wall suddenly wavered, flickering with a dark illumination from behind like a diaphanous curtain in the night. I recognized this eerie phenomenon for what it was. An unmistakable sign of a ghost, a spirit, in between the physical realm and the afterlife.

***********

Mo was startled awake by the call of a cat’s meow. He moaned bitterly, realizing it was his cat, which he had unwelcomely acquired yesterday. This was not how he wanted to wake up every morning. Rolling over on his stomach, keeping his eyes squeezed shut, he returned to the dream he had been having for one more moment, trying to recapture the already fading image of her in his mind. His daughter, dancing, bouncing clumsily up and down and giggling. Her curled black hair fluttering around her face in wild delight. If he could, Mo would print this image out from his mind. He would put it in his wallet, and look at periodically, using it like a flashlight for the dark moments of his day.

But Mo was fully awake now, and the fleeting dream was gone already. The space behind his eyes was black with wakefulness. He felt that familiar sense of loss, still palpably aching after all this time. He wondered if--

Mrrrrooooooowwwww.

Mo already regretted taking in that cat. Yet he felt obligated to because it was one of the last requests of his neighbor before he passed away three days ago. Dr. Leonard used to preach to Mo with an eccentricity unique to that of retired professors: “A lone man needs a fierce kitty. A feline to protect his sanity. You know, like a yin to his yang.”

His neighbor had been an astronomer, though he acted more like a Philosopher in Mo’s opinion. Mo never took him too seriously, until he died. So now, he was stuck with the Astronomer’s cat, “Gamma”.

**********

My eyes shot to the disturbance in the corner with trained fiercety. Body stone still, yet taught like a strung bow. I collected my utmost power as the spirit took its shadowy shape. The hairs on my back bristled with a greater apprehension than usual, for I was new to this residence. I could not be sure of the spirit’s intent here. My instincts prepared for the worst. Such is a cat’s dutiful enterprise.

**********

Well, time to feed the creature, thought Mo. Walking through the hallway that led to the kitchen, he heard a toddler’s cry behind the closed door that used to be his daughter’s bedroom. His heart lurched and his throat clenched, but he forced himself to ignore it, focusing instead on Gamma, who was leading him to her food bowl. She was long-haired, all white except for the tips of her ears, which looked like they were dipped in liquid sand.

She was going mad at his feet, weaving through his legs and whining with a distinct squawk that sounded more like a crow than a cat.

“Quiet, crow,” he pushed her out of the way with his foot, and she gave a prolonged meow of protestation. Mo tended to the cat’s food and then searched the contents of his miserably vacant pantry for his own breakfast. A can of salted kidney beans would do. He emptied them into a bowl and popped it in the microwave while cooking up some scrambled eggs on the stove top. For his daughter, Mo used to make an effort in learning to cook some simple dishes. Her favorite was pancakes, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Such culinary effort seemed pointless now, though.

**********

I did not yet know the characteristics of my new human. Thus far, his slim affections for me were irritatingly disappointing compared to what I received under the care of my last human, may he rest in peace. From what I had gathered, the new man’s expressions were not uncaring, so I held a cunning hope that he would succumb to adoration, if not reverement for me eventually. Yet, there was a sad gray haze in his oblivious eyes, indicating something else, too. Though he was unaware of this fact, something or someone, was obviously haunting him.

**********

With his haphazard breakfast cooked, Mo sat down at the dining table and methodically chewed his slightly over salted beans and eggs, mushy but flavorful. To avoid any depressing reminiscence, Mo mentally strolled through the agenda of his day. Not that he needed to. But it kept his mind running quick enough to avoid getting caught by the pain of the past. It wasn’t always effective. His lost daughter's little fingers somehow still held a grip on his weak heart.

So today, like most days, he would get ready, prepare his lunch for work, grab his briefcase, get in his car, and drive to the museum. He would be working on setting up a new exhibit on ancient Egypt, then probably have to eat lunch with his colleagues which he never particularly enjo---

His thought squealed to a halt when Gamma swiftly jumped onto the table. He wasn’t sure whether or not to allow this behavior. Her eyes shot piercingly into his like a laser. Like a Gamma Ray, he thought, the meaning of her name dawning on him. Mo continued eating as the cat sat directly in front of his bowl, observing him as he chewed. It felt as if she was determining whether or not to let him sit at the table.

Gamma’s head suddenly snapped around to the corner of the room. The corner where his daughter’s playpen used to be. There was nothing there now, though.

**********

In the corner, the storm of swirling shadows surrounding the spirit suggested it had been lingering here, unrestful for quite some time. Months to years, perhaps. No wonder this man’s eyes were so dulled, he had been living alone with a ghost. It was a little girl. Or rather, the disturbed spirit of what was once a little girl. She was sitting on her knees, with her legs bent to the sides in a “W” shape that only the pliable body of a toddler could endure. She looked all around her with wide orbiting eyes, mouth agape. Her dark hair blended into the shadows, and she seemed to smolder with energy. I mentally gripped the child with an intangible force, tightening my eyes slightly with effort.

**********

“What do you see Gamma?” Mo turned toward the corner again, eyes staring at nothing. Fragile memories rose from the depths of his mind. Swallowing a sudden feeling of distraught, Mo shook his head, then patted Gamma’s, and went to get ready, morosely unnerved.

**********

When he spoke, the child looked up towards the man and her lips opened into a goofy smile. Though they were in the same room, the father and daughter were separated by the borders of departion. After a prolonged beat, the man whipped his head back towards his bowl, shaking his head. He gave me one more discerning glance, absentmindedly patted my head, and trudged away. My eyes were still fixed on the ghost, preparing for my move.

On cue, the child attempted to crawl forward to follow. My gaze held her firmly in place. Startled and indignant, the girl’s lips pouted into an over-exaggerated frown. She pulsed with shadows, struggling to get to her father.

One step at a time, tail shooting straight out behind me like a beam, I pushed her through the seams of the world. She wriggled, not understanding the force moving her. As I pushed, the shadows dimmed and she became increasingly transparent. Soon she would reach her destined realm. Keeping my gaze in direct contact with her swirling dark brown eyes, she slowly calmed, her soul fading away.

That was the onset of a new phase of life for me, in a new home. As for my new human, he finally found a breach in his dark memories. I basked in the refound radiance of the room, dignified.

On the shore of the forest creek

woodsy blue

beneath the mellifluous water

an inapparent brookstone

ancient and patient

has engraved on it

my name.

When did it

when did I

get here?

Or has this stone existed all along

in the depths of the creek

waiting for me

to maunder through the trees

eventually guided to the ripples

of these crystal streams?

On the shore of the forest creek

my fingers sift

through the clear water’s surface

reaching in wonder

for the stone only meant

to be noticed

by me.

Let come what come

Let go what go

Trust in change

See what remains.

Don’t hide in “should”

Don’t ride on “shall”

Fret will lay waste

to Harmony’s taste

Just do what you need

And love what you do

From there

Let joyful life ensue.