Prompt for Hour Seventeen   Books and people are nearly the same. Books just like people have lots they can claim.   Turning a page is like asking a question. A person like a book has a secret confession.   Reading a book’s like listening…

Hr. 5 Prompt 22, 2016 Sitting here writing Making my mark You can laugh I did, it’s late Should be sleeping But here I sit Writing poems all night I must be nuts Pencil to paper Mind thinking My honey’s upset Night is for sleeping

Inspiration – “I stopped thinking about extreme grief as the sole vehicle for great art when the grief started to take people with it.” – Hanif Abdurraqib   The thing about grief is it is alive and warm like a child and begs to be…

A joy on a busy New York Pulling over Put of the crowd Unnoticed To dine alone Book on hand While thousands flow by Ignoring me. Heaven. Having a baby is rough. Everyone sees the baby. Twins is worse. Triplets impossible. Everywhere with a giant…

if you knew what i know about loneliness you would understand invisibility in the spaces between privilege and righteousness lives fully before disappearing into untethered expectations of how we know how to live in the pockets of longing to be recognized for anything other than…

when two became one elsewhere, i lost myself there where poetry keeps   books were safer than other people anyway Neil Gaiman knew

Hour 7 Prompt 7     Normal         No one wants to be normal as it relates to others. Normal is boring, predictable, average or typical. No one wants to be typical.  Everyone, or most everyone, wants to believe  that they live…

Abandoning the Dark Side “I stopped thinking about extreme grief as the sole vehicle for great art when the grief started to take people with it.” – Hanif Abdurraqib Of grief, I have seen my share, for years it was the vehicle that drove my…

They told stories That lived in the minds Of those who told them. Their pages laden with details Of love stories and broken hearts Of mysteries And works of art Of music And sing alongs Of intricate things That sometimes Made no sense Yet still…

I care nothing about anyone to beg I’ve done that before drunken ashamed begging why not me? Haven’t I proven myself to be worthy? In your eyes as if my own didn’t matter My sight thrived on how I lived in others minds maybe I…