poetry
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Smoky Water
Smoky water leaves a smoky taste in my mouth like there’s a cloud I can taste with my tongue. There are pockets of fire I can feel in my cheek, the taste of which makes me warm. We all drink the smoky water, let it sit in our bellies flow through us like a river.…
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a ballad for Juneteenth
with an excerpt from “Lift Every Voice and Sing by James Weldon Johnson” “we have come” a great distance from where we started years and generations have passed since this date made what was then known as freedom concrete. we go “over a way that with tears have been watered” tear stained faces had looked…
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The Apocalypse is Canceled
What if God canceled the apocalypse And we are supposed to decide How the world will go on What if we’re the ones Who are to decide what world we will create For ourselves and the future Avenging those who died Either for the cause or whose deaths incited the cause What if…
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The Artist’s Descent
This only needs to be told in four parts I. Before The artist could write sentences better than this She could put together Coherent thoughts Ones that once sounded beautiful Or at least intelligible Before The artist didn’t have to cling to her sanity II. The Rip The world is on fire The…
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regina
an ode to regina spektor’s early and unreleased work she sings of the gravediggers planting bones in the ground and i sit with my cross stitch pulling threads through the fabric her old songs her young mind my young mind a comfort i didn’t know i missed words that have sat in a song for…
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When This is All Over
When this is all over, I’ll remind you I love you When this is all over, I’ll remind you to breathe When this is over, When the slate is clean, I’ll remind you that things aren’t always As bleak as they seem I When this is all over, We’ll go to the park And stay…
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The Things I Know
You give me your words You hide in me your secrets You tell me the truth These are the things I know ‘ I know how you hurt I know why you bleed I know why it’s hard To say what you mean ‘ I know why you cried At the sight of that bird…
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chaos magic pt. i
i pay homage to the magic that once was ours we had it held it harvested it treated it as if we were the progenitors of such but we were not worthy used and abused its power for our own withdrawals from such we may never recover we thought we spoke for the magic, but…
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mister young old (portraits)
Ever the observant was mister young-old With his camera, he takes pictures of the world Keeps them in a little book, he’d show you if you asked Portraits of people he knows, places he wishes To know one day, with enough exploration and courage Ever the knowledgeable was mister young-old Traveling the world, gathering…
valentine 