Scranton Lace Factory

Just a few falling houses,

               A deserted driveway,

A bell tower se-

                        vered 

                                     from time

and melting snow 

              where the script 

of a grey cloud is written, zen-like 

by the hands

                    of an oriental calligrapher.

A lot of broken symbols, 

                         language with no words

 

*published on the amazing magazine ink in thirds where you can read the full volume of amazing poems and prose

I was recently rejected by the creative writing program at Cornell University, and I don’t think I can make it to Brown, NYU or Boston. It’s my second effort to try to become a candidate in writing. I know it’s a reach for someone like me whose mother tongue is not English to get admitted to an English writing program, it does not mean I’m a failure ( maybe I am, who knows, maybe I love to play the role of  Don Quixote), it means it will take me longer to get there, longer than most English speakers to write some god-damn good poems and it’s definitely a very lonely journey. But I’m on my way. I keep on failing; I fail better each time. This is enough for me.

Many Thanks for Ink in Thirds for publishing my poem, this is exactly what I need for now right before my 30th birthday.

A.H