NaPoWriMo 2017: #5 (natural landscape inspired)

The smell tastes earthen, sharp, organic the clippings tossed together gather like a random chopped salad of old mulch, bent grass leaves, and jagged dandelion greens. The machine, a trembling weight: responsibility held in knuckled grips, The onward pulling, incensing the air with burned gasoline and the relentless sound of wheels rolling over uneven terrain … Continue reading

NaPoWriMo 2017: #4 (3 Haiku)

i. New cherry blossoms sway. Breezes chill falling rain. The smell of morning. ii. Grey, graphite shadows beneath pink, rubber debris: writing still exists. iii. April afternoon sunshine; small brown boy runs, arms open, hugging life.

NaPoWriMo 2017: #3 (an elegy)

Elegy for Gregor Samsa In the vacant, cold empty castaway clutter of others, in this room that is no longer your own, you lie in as your truest self: a hollowed vermin shell reverberating echoes of the man you used to be— The reluctant Messiah who so loved your family and the world your work … Continue reading

NaPoWriMo 2017: #2 (Recipe poem)

Procrastination, Deep-fried Gather the ingredients: All of your best intentions— Pat dry with eagerness. Dreg in a bath of hopeful sunrise yolks and the milk of butter sweet optimism. Set aside and wait. Let the seconds melt into minutes allow the minutes to marinate into an hour; next, prepare flour: wring your hands with inactivity, … Continue reading

NaPoWriMo 2017: #1 [a Haibun]

Saturday, 6:15 AM It is supposed to be a day for alarm clocks to die. There are no smartphone rooster reminders, no gentle, electronic bedside nudges to get up, out, and going at the advent of another day. There is only this: the internal urge of life—to awaken. A primal instinct that has been left … Continue reading

A Love Letter Deferred

Dearest Stacey Dash, On behalf of “The Bruthas” out there, ALL of us: the used be twenty something’s who wore naiveté like loose fitting Girbaud jeans and dead stock, freshly unboxed Air Jordan’s; Us, who once walked the high wire of early adulthood, with the pseudo cool and careless strides of Man-children who were actually … Continue reading

NaPoWriMo 2015: 5. Uncle Sam

Listen to the wisdom of the old –Fortune Cookie Ever since I can remember he has been old. always the eldest son always the older brother always the favorite Uncle the one whose sandalwood skin smelled of Old Spice and shone with the dancing light of his smile and eyes that blinked secrets I wanted … Continue reading

NaPoWriMo 2015: 3. 3 Haiku (about the babe)

i. Babbling, drooling sounds, he makes; strange words, I say. We understand smiles. ii. In a baby’s mouth, three and a half white teeth are enough for a smile. iii. On his back, asleep. We lose hours watching him. Each breath answers prayers.

NaPoWriMo 2015: 2. A telescope sings of Cassiopeia

“You are the star for which all evenings wait” –Anonymous Some wait for the soft, amber pall of dusk to fall upon horizon’s lukewarm body in hopes of catching sight of atmospheric lovers— those who scorch hot crater tattoos upon the earth— permanent reminders of temporary affections. Others trail the streaking interstellar tails of icy … Continue reading