Expedition

This journey is unlike anything I could've imagined ( good thing this whole thing isn't my daydream). Because I didn't think I had it in me, this thing that everyone else saw in me. This thing that earned me the honor of teaching twenty-two blossoming minds. I was only substituting for about a month and... Continue Reading →

It’s Here… (Nanowrimo)

It's upon me, the month it's all stitched tightly together. In a month, it'll have eyes   to peek through drawn curtains a hand to reach from the dark alleys of their imagination,   a sultry, whispering voice that's neither charming or alarming but enticing,   commanding, urging them to climb, run and jump, dash... Continue Reading →

Rifled

he scrolled through his contacts, debating on who'd hear the ringing shots, who'd get burned by a stray shell and who'd toss his gun not who'd get cut down mid-run trying to save him from himself: the ride or die who pawned her life for his love - B. Brown (art courtesy of Pinterest)

She Raises Me

A prose poem that I wrote for class: Flirting with thirty from down the hall, barely grasping the scheme of it all, I pull my breaker tighter though the weather is nicer as she tugs on the strap of my baggage, slowing my pace. In a line, with no front and no end but I'm... Continue Reading →

To Whom This May Concern…

As sorry as I've felt, at the foot of my bed, fetal and folded in holiday in flannel, softening for a cigaro persuading tomorrow, while clasping laughter of way back when, (it sometimes slips) to sing with your arrival and to ring with your arousal like when I ushered you through down my Nile, risking... Continue Reading →

Today is the day…

I start my Poetry Fundamentals class. I've reviewed my readings (which is a crap ton of poems by poets with funny names) and my assignments: analyzing object and list poems and discussing them with my fellow classmates. And I have two poems due by Sunday for my portfolio. I'm excited. I'm nervous. But I'm hell... Continue Reading →

I’ve Returned

and where've I been? easing from under the shade of my apple tree whose roots have broken concrete, whose fruits have fallen too soon from the faintest winds, where have I been? cowering amongst rotten cores and tics disguised as seeds hailing Mary every time I thought I heard my mirror speak... but my reflection... Continue Reading →

Scenes

their wics flickeredlike cautious starsand her moving mind,the heaviest hole- B. Brown(image courtesy of Pinterest)

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