She’s got a heart of gold She also thinks pieces of rainbows fall from the sky on sunny days Her touch is a cotton sheet, her sight a floating swan, she hears as a smile sharing joy, tastes as one hungering for truth and smells…

  trapped in my fingerprints, the traces are not left on lines, rather, the smell of salt buried in palms leaves a footprint of memories– –and hope. the air of whimpers serenades my life; weight of memories in my head massages my crossed leg. Modupe…

My heart is a mudpie bleeding in the rain So bright of red that it contains the sun. Sopping clay falling through tiny fingers, to the soft applause of relentless rain. Cold petrichor fossils burn through icy nostrils, choking back chalky mouthfuls of earthen fruit….

HOUR 3 DESTINY As a child, I played with dolls, An unconscious yearning, a training. When I grew older I looked after my younger siblings, honing my protective skills, and waiting. I loved my freedom, my individuality, my body. Yet I was ready to surrender…

Writers are not born professionals, Their capability to struggle is vital. “Pen is mightier than sword”, Like playing with terrific words. Read between the lines, Until you turn nine.   There is the chaos in the crowd, As critics raise their voices aloud. Reading is…

The air clung to my skin, a wet washrag waiting to be wrung out. Grabbing a hand full, I squeezed until liquid filled my bucket, smelling sweetly of new mown hay. It ran down my arms and pooled around my feet. “Ern’s Better’n Nair’n, Kris”…

The 20 little poetry projects this burning mess breath is life small red berries see in the dark the white-hot light of these end-of-days summers filling my mouth with ash.   now all I smell is burning when I worry about the future and I…

  Life is like a bowl of cherries There goes a cow down the road I smell it I see it I hear it I touch it Might be my dinner The stars shout in exultation Jimmy Buffet in Margaritaville I do not touch it…

Swirling Concentric circles, I look down upon my contemplative self lonely? – never serial scripts, scenarios, sequential senses, syntagmatic semantics, seriously slither sideways, sister singer sirens, siting in shared silence sustaining splendent sanctity, strength and love.

His chewing was the sound of tires on gravel Shattering the crystal on the table Speaking through the chewing, Sending shards of breadcrumbs And spittle like shrapnel on his guests The choked sounds of mumbling Through the sucking of the oysters Gluttony spilled down his…