If you’re already feeling like reading this is going to make you late for work, you’d better read it anyway. Or run for that train. The title might give you a hint of what it’s about but they’re usually deceptive. From inside this East Brunswick net-cafe, for example, the only skyline I can see is…

When the sound of the firecrackers morphed into the sound of explosives, I knew it was time. My uncle’s shop, the opening of which the firecrackers was intended to bless, went up in a single sheet of white flame, the target of a shoulder-held missile. I quickly shaved my head, assembled my possessions (the book,…

He was unknown to me, a phantom bird. Our flight paths intersected momentarily, somewhere over a sandalwood sea. I dreamed of empty hotels in the desert. Stories that never seemed to begin or end. The virus came and I was stranded in an airport, feeling lonely. That much was real. My heart was bruised. His…

Not even a breeze. There is the next door neighbour’s music bleating through the hole in the fence. The sound of a toaster popping. No crumbs, though, and no sticky hands. Morning comes but you don’t notice. The phone rings. You embrace the emptiness. The sky bleeds. Christmas is here. So what. In the housing…

The sound of the falling. Under scattered neon raindrops form a pool. Rain swims in the sky. Faster than any other sound. Sheets of cloud tears. Bosom of rain. Swelling through the grizzly morning. Bird calls in the rain. Rooves peppered with raindrops. Pools of last night’s rain in the oily streets. Cars moving through…

Listen to a live performance of this poem.