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Tag Archives: Nicholas Quek
gibbous eyes traced a path from windows wound down, as if you could stretch horizons from roads; street lights bending in your afterglow. tiny hands raised embers, each fragment trembling beneath your breath. your smile shone its absence behind objects: … Continue reading
(after Linda Pastan’s ‘MRI’1) the message beams back in a foreign language: spacecrafts dissolved by astronauts, their glowing remains enclosing a black hole. mission control predicts a comet pulled from orbit, its ruin sealed in stereotactic snips. the body electric, … Continue reading
where do answers crystallise when questions forget where they lie? if someone sings when their voice breaks, when should they choose to dull the ache? will their silence remain heard, or each choice wasted and submerged? does silence fill every … Continue reading
river reaches for glass and steel, paths weaved from milieu: corners and back alleys hidden from view join unknown bridges crossing heights over an atrium. each shore linked with escalators; skip the next floor to distant skies at level five: … Continue reading
in the morning you learn to dance again and nothing is wrong. bite hard and swallow when you see food, remember how smiles are too wide for comfort. everything is in place and nothing is wrong. bite hard and swallow … Continue reading
(to wai gong1) taking your own hand, you led yourself home. family is where the dust settled from joss sticks, where hands once parted your hair, in the dark. you wore your stepmother’s face, taking her silver eyes with your … Continue reading