Category Poem

7-WORD STORY

“Does that make sense?” “Yes, it does.”

ON GENETICS AND FATHERLESS ANGST

Mama told me that I’m just like pops with the way I let things rock and let my mouth close when my head get hot. I was two when he burnt the road up, and at 13, I looked in the mirror and I popped questions about the 1300 miles he scorched.   His face […]

CLOSED EYES SEE WHAT THEY WANT TO

I am always inclined to question closed eyes– lives lost in the street and found on the news for everyone to see. I question closed eyes. When my deep red blood is spilled by white hands, all I can do is sing of the blues because god forbid I choose to sing of something else. […]