lineage of heritage finding the roots illusive spirit for new path much rooted in the ways of life   pointing the life challenging times coining the right of new norm coining the times within restoring the riptide of new culture   restoring into the point…

Stroller parks Evil eyes Parents’ barks Children cries Crowded places Gluttonous bites Staring faces Long-line rides Not coming back Till I know It won’t be packed Like a sold out show.

The girls may have been 4 and 7; their mamie was in town, winter, Christmas Eve, 2003. We had live lobsters swimming in a pot most of the day. Jordyn watched the claws open and close slowly. “What does a lobster eat?” I had to…

Our cups runneth over with wine, vodka, and mead We ingest as much as the rest as confessions begin to breed. Emptying our chalice will tend to fill our greed. The drinks have filled us with regret and befuddled pleads for someone to hold her…

Snowflakes fell last night Cold, uncaring, a slurry Today we woke up hopeless Then out the window we saw them. Mom was grouchy, dad was gone, she didn’t tell us to get dressed. Other than the driveways and roads the ground was white with snow…

You spun me from dawn to dusk the soundtrack to my unrelenting, tragically nasal angst  nursing me with thunderous drums  to soothe my infinite sadness   Loud through flimsy headphones tethered to a yellow and black CD player stuffed into the pocket of my gaudily…

Footsteps Hallways refrain from ceramic tiles checker-boarded black and white down academic paths, windowless, board after board postered with events, classes on arts and culture, tutors for hire. Footfalls echo down hospital halls walls painted a reserved color that should be called hospital green, silent…

I love you, I swear   Then why won’t you hold my hand, tight with fingers intertwined.   Then why won’t you show your parents that we flirt daily, lover’s minds   Then why do you say you’ll leave next time a pretty girl says…

Christmas sucks. I loved Christmas as a kid. I was conditioned to hate it.   Angry men. Possessive men.   Tantrums with blown out candles and spit on my car. Joy only with permission. I don’t want to remember the past.   Not at this…

He met me in my dreams, by the river, where the crickets still remembered us,  I lay in his arms, the moon, how she revered us,  Life, oh she begs me to stop humming his song,  He stayed with me, long after he was gone …