Poetry

  • Beauty Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I be holding beauty when I glance upon them theoretically shaping the future into an afro- concentric sharpness that shook the white power structure into confronting a black consciousness organized with a mandate and a mission to dismiss that old time religion that said everything…

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  • Originally posted on Silver Birch Press: DEFINING THE MAGIC Poem by Charles Bukowski a good poem is like a cold beer when you need it, a good poem is a hot turkey sandwich when you’re hungry, a good poem is a gun when the mob corners you, a good poem is something that allows you…

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  • Ten Minute Writing 1

    who would’ve thought that ten minutes of writing would be hard. after all, in the span of a lifetime what is ten minutes? a pot of coffee boiling? the amount of time it takes to fry chicken golden brown on one side? amount of time i spend telling my child to brush his teeth in…

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  • How Elsie Became Tuyet

    Elsie was a straight A student, a dutiful daughter and a speaker of three languages. I was nothing of the sort but still, we became friendly enough that I was able to ask why the French teacher called her Tuyet. Americans say its hard to pronounce. I tested it on my one language tongue. Tuyet.…

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  • When it is finally ours, this freedom, this liberty, this beautifuland terrible thing, needful to man as air,usable as earth; when it belongs at last to all,when it is truly instinct, brain matter, diastole, systole,reflex action; when it is finally won; when it is morethan the gaudy mumbo jumbo of politicians:this man, this Douglass, this…

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  • Then, Now

    Back then, moans manifested through walls like copulating ghosts; making morning after sightings problematic. Now, when I hear sounds through the walls I remember my own moans and how they climaxed into this life where I am a mother listening to my child read himself to sleep.

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  • The Day She Died

    Ever since they moved into the apartment with carpet she liked to fly. She would dive head first off of any structure that held her feet “without giving a damn for rugburn” her mother said. Her father just laughed and would swoop in “like an airplane” catch her mid-flight and give her the hugs she loved…

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  • of a bed that’s unsleepable until egyptian cotton sheets are removed balled together in a bamboo hamper to be fumigated by the washing process the time-worn couch is untenable as well until I remove the sheets covering what was twice his resting place and replace them with freshly washed ones. then I can curl myself…

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  • (7/30)

    Back then, moans manifested through walls like copulating ghosts making morning after sightings problematic. I bound myself to my room until the sounds and subjects dissipated into the mist of a Monday morning. Now, when I hear sounds through the walls I remember my own moans and how they climaxed into this life where I…

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