I enjoy being blackbecausemy skincan not blushin uncomfortable situations,like when I’m present in a pewand the word gayechoesfrom the microphone.It feels as if all staresare centeredaround me.I try not to move.Like an expression withholder,my face becomes stone.I...

I feel like my secular self today:cold and thirsty. I drinkhot chocolate to feel the warmth between my lungs. Snowflakes cling to my pea coat,white specks dissolving into gray. At night, I find myselfriding in the wrong lane: A...

Poems are forever-writing themselvesinto the rhythm of our hearts,nesting themselves into the subconsciousand restingjust beneath the tongue.

There's nothing like the smell of weed and McDonold's syrup in the morning,  as I weave through my thoughts and reflect on my past. They approach me like the headlights of oncoming traffic in the night, leaving yellow lines in my eyesight from staring for too...

(Psychological Conflict: Trust vs. Mistrust) At the bus stop a woman digs into the trash,searching for satisfactionfor a need that mother America has failed to meet.She picks up and tosses asideuntil her thin fingers fallupon a box of abandoned french fries. My mom...

Shivering, I'm standing, watching cars drive pass.Neck swiveling, I pan into make eye contact with a driver through his glass.Red lights prevent us all from hitting the gas in "rough" neighborhoods.The same places for where we collect canned goods.The same faces we...

Be yourself,not what everyone else is.You see, as humans we are selfish.Until it comes to swag,then when all wanna be selfless aswe place ourselves on these shelveslike shellfishallergies we swell.Thinking that these fabrications, they will sellwith the fabric in...

I wish that I could hug herlike the reflection of city lights pressed against the harbor,glistening:Her eyes smiling above her cheeks.We stand listeningto the silence,as our bodies speakthe distance out of existenceonce our chests meet.

Waking up without you next to me is dim, like muffled sunlighttrying to sing it's good mornings beyond your opaque curtains. There is no skirting around the fact that we are pathetic with our love. You left me alone at an Andrea Gibson show for 15 min, to get some...