You heard the struggle in my wrist
as I tried to open the jar of secrets
that you so desperately needed to hear.

Reflections of silence echoing
off my tin plated chandelier.



I am stuck in this shell that is made of many metals.
Surveying the landscape,

Looking for other metals to put onto the metals that have been there for years.

But every metal I find is of an origin that I do not know.
And then it causes me to wonder.
Do I even know how I got to be the way that I am.
How did I end up here,
With all these unfamiliar parts.



Don’t let this be a trend.
Or a good book that we open and never read the end.
Don’t let this be a good movie that remains unplayed
After we paid money to watch it.
I want this to breathe infinitely.
Into the coils of our children.
I want it to strangle them until they’re body adapts and they inhale it
I want it to etch itself into the insides of our voices.
So we no longer have to whisper our greatness.
Across the bottom of our phrases and dialect.
I want the paint on our faces and our personalities to be permanent.
Like a black marker
Slashing across pages in a history book.



There is a clock on the back of his hand.
Ticking constantly.
As time is known to do.
The seconds clicking over his skin.
Leaving cuts that will never heal.
Permanent reminders of every misstep.
Minutes slowly dragging, edging deeper.
Slicing over scabs and dried blood.
Deep thunderous knocking that rattles knuckles.
The gears twisting skin.
Forming wrinkles on fingers.
Joints rotating in painful ways.
Tarnished brass that no longer has a reflection.
Unable to see himself.
Time has not be kind,
To the man that has not been kind.

Dear Breath of Fresh Air

Dear Breath of Fresh Air

I will say this to you plainly. You are someone that I admire. From your soft feet to your perfectly “managed” head of hair. From your deep contemplation to your to your laughter induced conversations. You are calming.

An ocean breeze that gently nuzzles my leaves. Your smile is a prism of happiness that I feel beyond the tips of my branches. You linger throughout the tentacles of my thoughts.

Complex metamorphic rock that absorbs heat and sunlight. You warm my heart. Glazing honey over my arteries as your affection pumps through me.

I want to be for you, as much as I am with you.

Dense Love

Dense Love

I seek a love that that is dense,

Growing in every direction.

Infecting rainbows that show themselves after rainy days.

I want to make time from scratch.

From photons and neutrons, I want to create the fabric this love is wrapped in.

Grant me passage to your ecosystem,

So I can wash away the dead cells.

I seek a love that purges.

Let me gargle what ails you.

I am the cleanser,

Seeking a love our descendants will remember.

Buried in the seams of their genes.

I seek a love I can reflect on.

Looking up at mirrored images on ice flung from comets.

Gazing into the womb of forever.

I want us to bloom together.

Synthesizing spiritual nectar.

For our offspring to take back to the hive of our ancestors.

I want to draft a cosmic letter.

With a love that reaches beyond forever.




A signal flare into the emptiness.

Red breathing light exhaling onto the walls of my soul.

There is a sharpness in my breath that is stabbing my lungs.

I am exhaustion.

Monotony neatly packed in social media feeds.

Unable to breathe as my beliefs are slammed back against the wooden boats.

The New World just never seemed that inviting to me.

I want to remember the Old World, with the old gods, not the new.

I want more colors and flavors in my eyes.

Instead of the bland mashed potatoes of colonialism.

Show me a sidewalk painted with textiles in a minimalist style.

Matched with sky-scrapping buildings draped in kente.

A virtual assistant that understands what I say.

‘Ok, Google.’ Show me how to make my grandma’s pound cake.

Google: “Here’s a recipe, if in doubt ask your grandmama.”