Mark your calendars for Thursday, April 29, 2021 and join me and special guest host Charis Cotter as we celebrate the launch of my new collection of poetry 'thimbles', published by Palimpsest Press. This is a virtual event that starts at 7:30pm. Zoom link will be available soon! This event will feature a reading, discussion,… Continue reading Save the Date! Book Launch!
Thrum I awake to thevelvety thrum ofheartbeats rushingin the deeps of my earsa foreshadowing rhythmfor a day alive with possibility Before my bones bear downin the moments my musclesmeet the morning’s whispering lightI am not afraid or worriednot less or better than I am velvet thrumbloodrushingto greetskin
Two Kids Playing I saw the moonwaxing gibbouson the blue sky cheekacross the way fromthe giddy sundelirious with day These two kidsplaying in theallure of azureassuring me thatmiracles happenbecause behold! The moon and the sunon the same tendermorning frolickingmaskless in thepossibilities of now
Residue Oscar barkedand barked and barkedso that at 2:22amI was up cursing as Ilet him outside The night was sliced I curled up bed waitingfor him to summon me againhe did I let him in thenknelt before himhis mid-night servantcleaning his pawsdirty with the sandystardust in the yard Back in bed slightly deliriousgrit between my… Continue reading Poem 60 – Residue
Audre for Audre Lorde Audre lives in the volcanic intersections of race | sex | class | phobia I know who I am [exclamation mark]I said, I know how I am [exclamation mark] [voice loud]I am a black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet [exclamation mark] [foot stomp][hand on hip] Who are you I said, who are you… Continue reading Poem 55 – Audre
“Social movement doesn’t come all at once, just as it doesn’t come out of nowhere. There are moments when it captures the news, like the National Guard in Little Rock, and then we don’t hear anything about it nationally for a year, two years, three years, four years, five years – and then wham!” pg.… Continue reading Poem 51 – Movement
The PoetFor Phillis Wheatley Peters age sevenseized in Senegalsentenced to slaveryone tender body ina shipment of shame under a robe of dirty rugslender child nearly nakedsuffering the vived changein climate and freedom –shivers the ship captain in hasteher frailty no reason tostutter sells her tothe Bostonian Wheatly whites before dusting but after dishes –reading and… Continue reading Poem 49 – The Poet for Phillis Wheatley Peters
the intimacy of skin “…how come, how comeI anticipate nothing as intimate as history would I have had a different lifefailing this embrace with broken things…”From ‘thirsty’ by Dionne Brand nothing is more intimate than skin the bag of itmighty body buttress claspingthe broken & betrayedcupping loss in a wrinkled elbowstanding at attention on the… Continue reading Poem 47 – the intimacy of skin