Poetry

  • #7: If the poem came from God don’t ask me to edit God. #28: At their best our poems have taught us things we never knew we knew. We just have to let them. #29: Here is a tricky one: the poem is not so much in the image itself but in the moment that…

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  • I am usually one who avoids reading, let alone reviewing, books until hype had died down. I didn’t change that protocol for Ross Gay and his absolutely sublime Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude even though I had read a poem by him that I absolutely loved in Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry. Even…

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  • I’ve got a feeling everyone knows I had a hard year but they don’t know I missed the train yet still managed to see my son shine. I’ve got a feeling that keeps me on my toes and in throe but I still missed the train. I am not alone. Everybody had a wet dream.…

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  • Flora and Fauna

    Flora and Fauna I wanted to bless my eyes this morning with flora and fauna so I came in from the cold of a dream full of unrelenting rain and opened my eyes to what is customarily my second sighting of the day: My ideological father shot down in the Audubon ballroom where the only…

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  • Ekphrasis 1 (NaPoMo #3)

    open-mouthed sky speaking over water lightning punctuation sun cowers in corner while zeus corrects poseidon Picture source

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  • Six artists including Chimamanda Adichie, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o and Kerry James Marshall offer different takes on the – often problematic – portrayal of black people: “We live in a material world, in which the things we see shape our expectations.” Source: 6 Artists on Black Identity

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  • Sisters mine, beloveds those bones are not my child. I am a woman at point zero; unburnable. The wind done gone into a dark alliance forged from the devil’s pulpit. Daughters of the Sun, Women of the Moon a mercy, please. Let’s make dust tracks and leave the dilemma of this ghost to those who…

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  • Every year when April approaches, I find myself getting all skittery about it because since I found out about it, I have never been able to write a poem for every single day of the month. But I keep trying. The poet in me demands it. So here I am again, April 1st starting the…

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  • glass separates selves — this her! this Other! an off-kilter smile pasted on comes quickly undone the corners peel on a clothed mouth. looks hungry for something, some just-swallowed bitter. Read the entire poem here: monachopsis – Contemporary Verse 2 (CV2)

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