The black and white television screen flashes to a bald man The color of his suit is a bright blue and with a blink of his eye, I fall forward into the glass of my Hennessy colored table Purple and turquoise fog clouds my eyes…

Roadblocks and detours and ever winding roads weary feet, disheveled mess where it ends, I hope to know cognizant boycott of roots going down never in life was a I tied to the ground mad nomad wandering this place swirling gypsy feels no disgrace the…

In the beginning, there was only you, wrapped entirely round each other, melding flesh in sweat soaked bliss, burning fire twisting through crystalline ice, warm and one. The end evolved, no drama nor violence, just a cooling through time of what had burned, a tepid…

The thunder rolls The lightning strikes As the rain begins to pour Rivers begin to flow down the streets Flowers become covered with little crystals of rain drops The clouds so dark and gloomy Yet the sun still peeking through to say good morning With…

Cement, plaster, iron and glass man’s permanent structures sure faded fast So glad we’re together, so glad we know that a garden well tended will eventually grow it may take a while, even long years expect a few tangent’s, a few well paced tears but…

An element or certainly two Floating past one another In the vast watery landscape Interacting through electrons Chemicals that form complex attractions Each second, numerous connections That lead to large, diverse compounds A marvelous broth to nourish the future Life will arrive soon Maybe in…

Parched and twisted, my mind reflected the desert surrounding me this last year, emptied and lost. The sun there scorches and thins all it touches, a child’s plastic rattle half buried in the ocher dust shattered in my hand when pulled, brittle shards, and I…

As a child you played in the dirt making mud pies for your daddy, teasin’ momma with the wigglin’ worms you were a mighty dinosaur, eating trees made of broccoli growing like a weed in the dirt Helping your grandma pick the berries, one for…

Dear, teacher: Ramona at 36, desperate…near quitting   I see you sitting in the rocking chair with that baby-near-toddler in your lap watching Def Jam poetry listening to Taylor Mali’s poem about what teachers make – falling apart because you know you are buckling under…

The brick laden road of the 12th Enclave Guides me to the pop-up stall. I haven’t been here in 5 years, Yet I know the way Like a conquistador through a jungle I turn the corner And approach the sitting man. I hand him my…