The blood beneath my skin is white when you place it under the white lights. I remember that January, its crisp touch of bright mistSpreading. I remember Allen, his body a home we haveJust returned to, after hearing that dozens of mothersJumped off Third Mainland bridge into their children’sFuneral. The elegies were inherited, almost lyrical thatThe Newspapers clouded the day, full of listeners.They did know … Continue reading Desire
The ups and downs,The expectations, and the fact I fail at meeting up to them, The sadness and the joy that makes you long for simpler times. Someone got lost growing up, and no, there was no warning attached. Me — I thought I knew me until I lost her in the pictures of who she is supposed to be. Who do I want to … Continue reading Minus Half
I wish I could tell younger me how lonely it gets here. I want to tell her we never stayed friends with D, or C, or M. Life doesn’t work that way, apparently — we drift apart into our worlds. I wish to tell her I am scared and have her give me some dangerous optimism for the road. I desire those fantasies that don’t … Continue reading Growing Up is Scary
I see the moon and a single pulsing star;Static and proud, guardians of a night sky.Her luminescence warms my thigh,And a gentle breeze kisses my soul. A white chocolate Malteser: replete withCraters and dust, ingredients of a young love.I see the moon, the moon sees me,And she is all orbit and resplendence. Her quiet light breaks me. I long for piecesOf her on my tongue; … Continue reading Orbiting
My first harmattan in six years,Wafts and sails like a canoeOn lonely waters: quiet of ripples,With zero fishes or mermaids in view. The cold heat burrows in the nostril,Digging for ore, flesh, and gold.Through wire nets and iron bars, australWinds shimmy and blow, rudely and bold. Faraway carpenters nail and hammer,School children fill the air with shrill laughter.Rumbling generators spit soot ejaculate;a Bronze Mannikin in … Continue reading My First Harmattan
ArtisansQuill| Celebrating Wordcraft 