poetry

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Love

Love

Love that pummels you
Is not love
Love that thunders over your flesh
And presses into you
Pressed on to you
Tightens its clamp over you
Is not love

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Eyes

Eyes

My prize is these eyes
That fan their blinking adoration with those lashes
Those wings reaching skyward
Lift your eyes, baby
The world wants to flatten you out

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Cup

Cup

This cup you hold
Has filled and drained
Filled and drained
Filledanddrained
filledanddrained

The vapors of intention
Have escaped
And are left wandering the skies
Not knowing where is home is

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The N-Word

The N-Word

The first time I asked someone to stop using the n-word, I was 12.
I was asking my dad to not use that word anymore. He’d been speaking it with spit ever since I could remember.

My parents and I had left a minor-league baseball game early in Tulsa, OK (where we lived at the time). Walking through a dark parking lot mostly alone.

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Inheritance

Inheritance

I am a giant among none
A revelry uncontained
A watcher on the parapet

I long to see a different future
A vision to appear from the haze
Step forward
Stop hiding
Reveal yourself

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