Mushroom

Under a roof are sweet nothings with everything
present. Like the pan in the kitchen,

if the sound of sautéing is love it would leap,
a delicious scent. Like spores of butter,

home is rooted into the ground even after raindrops
create puddles. Like splashing onto each other’s warmth.

Gangsa Is Raining

(with apologies to Iain Lim’s ‘There’s A Fire In Bangkit’)

Afternoon there was rain,
but without a space for grammar.

Does grammar require space?
The kind between fonts,
an interstellar whiteness.

“Isthisanongrammar,
isthisanonstanza.”

Ser-ifs and sans are the same.
Like how rain is a tick-er, the trans-it-ions of
a puddle sentence, into a puddle stanza.

Who writes Gangsa without a name?
Who writes without a space?

“Torrentingrain,
torrentofrefrain,
torrentwithoutsiderestrain.”