March, 2014


the cave

– brianprince

scientific. or not. magnetic. of course. aluminum ladders never lasted under that heat. rock. throat knot. first kiss. stumble upon stained glass. hieroglyphics. layered by beautiful portraits. yes, it’s the cave. it’s the mother nurturin’ cave. where oil and emulsion mix. impression. often overlooked. and passed by. but not ignored when you’re in store for human interaction.

we’re better together. forever. always. apart. the mantra of where our souls find one another while our bodies are busy being human.

grandma grace

– brianprince

there is no need
to distill this narrative
(package this
poem) because
today played out
in real time

it all happened
so fast

teenagers releasing
their wiggles
a coach teaching

“check-in” “move
to the open space”

and there she was
lying on the track surroun
ding our practice field
flat without movement

speaking korean she knew
she was hurt and so did we as
well as the families riding running
wondering what happened

my wrists she claimed softly
in my native tongue we all saw
it wasn’t normal but I asked
about arthritis anyways

in her seventies it was not an
odd question but

lifting her frail hundred-pound
teenage-like body to an upright
position then
to her feet and
over to a seat
we sat for a bit
and I asked if
there was anyone
i can call

no. no. at church
in costa mesa. she spoke softly. offering her a ride i

an obstacle course
first the patience-testing
ten-minute walk sit here while I fetch the car in the other lot sprinting around the baseball field like a relay
I reached to the door handle to
pass the baton as 91.5 KUSC flicked on classical
passenger chair raised from lounge
to medical carrier we headed
north on state college.

we exchanged names.
everything’s gonna
be ok myung. thank you

March 8, 2014

– brianprince

my oldest
turned fourteen
and I’m realizing
the unwarranted
duties that come with
growing up. the fun.
obligations. wa
nts. necessities.
guidance. getting lost.
just plain old

and then

a plane,
a massive 777
goes missing
in the air
in Southeast

March 8, 2014.


– brianprince

he had me at
“I, too, sing America…”
as he stood there rehearsing
his presentation
on Langston Hughes
my almost fourteen year
old hipster white kid
with prescription Ray-bans.
“I am the darker brother…”

I’m mesmerized by his interest.
and swallow a knot as I choke up on his mess-ups eyes water up on his ums and I means but redeemed by his ‘he really captured me there.’

you’re captured? I’m captured by your love attention to detail of a scholar’s dedication to the word.

“They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
and eat well,
And grow strong.”

you too son are growing stronger than I’ve ever imagined never fathomed same interests in reality only long shot expectations and unrealistic perceptions. I’m glad you are you. either way.

I’ll be at the table
When company comes
Nobody’ll dare
say to me,
‘Eat in the kitchen,’

as I watch your mom thumb through, read on, in a spoken word voice truths of this moment no choice but tears tearing their way through my heart to cuff as I wipe them clear you continue

They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.”

and you too son
have my

you’re much further along than I was at fourteen.