Shooting Stars Shoot the moon and miss Then aim for the firmament Blow infinity.
Tag: #2020poetryhalfmarathon
Ye Olde Farte
Ye Olde Farte It was like opening a bag of potato chips clenched between buttcheeks with a pungent bubble slowly rolling out from the top of my crack- a blinding fog of stink.
Season of the Tomato
Vines grow yellow blossoms open enticing bees to cover themselves in gold heavy with fruit glowing red warm in my hand I breathe in the scent as my teeth sink in juice drips down my chin as I taste the flavor of summer.
Hour 5
In this 5th hour I feel the need to say I am a black woman With black children Who matter to me. In this, the 5th hour… It is important that you see My black family is just as important as all you have produced…