Kamiel Choi Poems

I stand next to the ocean
the light of our hotel room
is still reflected on the waves
...

How much peace is in an evening walk
of two near strangers at the bay
when they hold hands and gently talk
even if their peace - has gone away
...

I will be ninety-five
and I will play my violin
in the shade of a tree
...

Poetry is always celebration
or its opposite. Making blackness
the word for everything:
A symbol, a sound,
...

The face of the man who knows he won't be tortured
even when his bombs start to go off. His human rights
are acute, unlike the human rights of his victims.
His smiling face is the face of our own humanity
...

I risk an early death by sitting down for this
so listen: my clavicles move like daggers
to write cut-throat poetry for you
no jokes. no mirrors.
...

last night, ancient starlight fell onto your arm
it was billions of years old
and had traveled the entire time only
to smash into your barren wrinkled skin.
...

Behold my trickery today:

I mistake
your gaze
...

A smartphone is a Viennese Kaffeehaus
in your pocket:
Card games, endless newspapers, a place
where you can receive your post
...

She draws triangles.
Can you draw a round triangle I ask?
No! She says.
That is an oxymoron.
...