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September 6, 2008 - Saturday
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lachrymose lover
lachrymose lover,
where did you learn the importance
of this salt
this flesh into sinewy skin
a thin layer of doubt, hard like
a pebble, one skip than two across
my elbow; our history a hiccup.
how did you find a river to
wash my cheeks, this color of
smolder and sin. stones crack
open against my collarbone, where
you lips once parted and touched.
the pebbles have marked up the woodwork,
cholor seething beneath my own onyx.
i'd like to believe you are more than
just another stone thrower
and this heart you tossed
one skip then two over troubled waters
is just a test.
6:32 AM
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8 Comments - 8 Kudos
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August 13, 2008 - Wednesday
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power
the first time a man exploded...
my fingers:
gripped him sticky
a white cloud
a gust of breath
a layer of sweat on my brow,
...i felt it
wavering and
conditional
but in that moment,
all mines.
3:09 AM
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3 Comments - 6 Kudos
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July 28, 2008 - Monday
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rsvp - for the freaks, cause i feel like it... part II
a grown man never asked me for a kiss
he always knew when to lean in
suck my lower lip,
like a papaya,
for real.
slide his palm against my peak,
hold the curve of my back,
throw back his head,
allow my teeth a tug of his lip,
offer my tongue a dance against his skin,
rub the exposed birthmark,
match the groan released from my belly
with his own,
he always knew how to lick the envelope of an open invitation.
5:29 PM
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5 Comments - 7 Kudos
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July 24, 2008 - Thursday
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bare - for the freaks
i want to fuck you
in a language so primal
the grinding hurts our teeth.
the idea of citing moons and
stars instead of the shiver per-
colating under my flesh, is as cliche as
a sleepy lover. thank you for giving
so many inches of you to my spine, it is
the reason i broke into tears. not for any
other reason than it hurt to release
an orgasm so absolute, everything before
blinked as pale as a panting tongue. how can
i thank you for lending your name,
with such precision to the bend and give
of this skin. you are a gracious man.
8:50 PM
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5 Comments - 8 Kudos
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June 17, 2008 - Tuesday
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Declaration of Obama
After reading his book, Dreams from My Father. I realize, Obama is what every man should be. Beautiful with language, honest in his flaws, unwavering with his loyalty and passionate about life. It is after swimming in his memoir that I feel I can really stand behind this man. Really donate money that I don't have to a hope for our future, I can volunteer for a cause that will benefit more bodies than my own and bask in the glow of his brilliant leadership. Because like Michelle, Obama's wife, I too have found myself torn as an American adult.
The moment I learned of the Tuskeegee experiment; the hours I relive the Sean Bell verdict; the minutes I replay after learning I no longer had insurance coverage for a surgery that would fix my limp and allow me a life again; I felt expendable. When I begged the opinions of three different doctors only to feel the backhand of the "no malpractice please" club, I never felt so alone. I cringe at the idea of vaccines for my daughter, I am fearful of her becoming another sterility case, like the women of Puerto Rico.
The idea of Barack Obama, leaves me to wonder what beauty can come for my family. For my friends. For my coworkers. I believe again, in our government. Since the scandal of Bush's "re-election", I haven't had the heart to look Lady Liberty in the eye. I considered her a traitor to us all. And by no means do I believe, Obama is the saviour. He is still human and capable of failing. But it is the humanity in him, that I see a possibility of something different. You know it when you see it, when you hear him speak, when you watch him laugh - like he doesn't care about the people planning for his demise. Like his figure alone isn't a threat to continuation of the all American racism that's been planted under our skin, all along.
5:45 PM
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9 Comments - 6 Kudos
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June 6, 2008 - Friday
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miracle worker
i close my lungs to you.
wrap the flexible hum of your name in wax paper and
wait for the suffocation to begin.
the art of waiting for a woman to learn
her true value is a staring game between
a blind person and god.
i recognize the seduction of saving
women, now. how a man falls into this
position is no wonder.
we are beautiful victims. the finger
prints on our necks. the deer in headlight
look is worn like fashion's new black.
a wicked matching of bruises and heart
strings cut by our own youthful hands. pass
me the matches now, firechild.
i'll show you how to blaze a glory for him.
he has no burden to carry. you have always danced
in the wings until his tastebuds asked for you.
and the flavors that danced across his abdomen like
light figures on a wall were just the beginning to your
addiction. your handsome reward is his hand on the
sidewalk. your heart is a blood curling smile. she walks ahead, like
an anxious three-year-old before spilling into a busy intersection, you
will watch the car metal twist and puncture her listless body.
but this time there will be no miracles. and i won't be there to save you.
6:16 AM
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5 Comments - 5 Kudos
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May 29, 2008 - Thursday
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if this surgery goes wrong...
i leave you my tongue
the weapon i wielded most
it will protect you from the
night, the shadows and like
i leave you my forearm
the branch that protected
our friends. our family perched
underneath, they will always
smell like this. rub cocoa butter
on the stretchmarks. they tend
to itch when anxious. don't blame
them for their ugly. it isn't their
fault.
i leave you my eyes. so much
has been viewed with them. keep
them close to your heart. they'll
never lie, even when they should.
i leave you my right hand. she's a
beautiful creature. she's my greatest
gift, next to you. joy released from
her fingertips like yellow tulips. she is
spring time, like your smile. she will
never fail you.
3:12 PM
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6 Comments - 9 Kudos
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May 21, 2008 - Wednesday
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wire gate
when he hugs you/
holds your limbs at your sides/
bends you backwards/
til your mouth parts like an orange/
a tongue will wag in your direction/
prepare for this moment/
think of 7th grade/
how you practiced on your hand/
a fleshy pink across your knuckles/
it felt like all the things you laughed about with your girlfriends/
full of expectations and saliva/
when he pins your back against a wall/
pretend it feels like a pillow/
ignore the ruptured gate against your spine/
the scraping of your skin until red/
the moans that fill his lungs/
he will imagine this young passion is all the pain candy you are made of/
pretend he is right as he walks you back home/
when you make it to the bathroom/
forgive the stain that will force you to rid of your sister's white jeans/
remember the kiss/
trace the claw prints/
consider them your punishment for the deed///
3:15 PM
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5 Comments - 9 Kudos
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May 13, 2008 - Tuesday
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cooke said
sang of a change coming. and you never really feel the current of this change
until something big and bloody happens.
so much has happened. i wrote 30 poems in 30 days. i had a birthday celebration in miami. i am preparing for my daughter to graduate primary school. i am preparing for my sister to marry. sean bell's killers were acquitted. my foot is back in a soft cast. there are no surprises like these left in the world for me. until the cyclone of burma. then the finishing of the men's anthology "barbershop chronicles." and now. this. i was accepted into the cave canem summer retreat. it is a week-long workshop for african-american poets and has been led by the likes of patricia smith, rita dove, kwame dawes, lucille clifton, nztoke shange and sooooooo many more greats.
it feels that current is moving a different direction. one that allows me to walk about with more hope into my step. a smile on my face at times. when i trick myself into thinking of life without all the pain and disappointment attached. breath me in. tell me if you can feel it too.
8:12 AM
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7 Comments - 12 Kudos
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April 30, 2008 - Wednesday
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bell - the last of day30
poets. i owe you my life. and sometimes, i want to give it back to you. this existence between stage and page. i hate what you've allowed me. this power to spin words like a dreamcatcher. i also love you with the same fervor. you've allowed me this opportunity to save a piece of myself for my daughter. my last poem below... 30/30 you've made me a believer. to the poets that read and wrote, inspired and worked my ass out with these words!!! thank u
bell
your son will never hear of you in history books.
he won't play a sport with your voice bouncing from the stands in approval.
he won't see you dance with his mother at his wedding.
will never know how it felt to have you teach him to drive a car, put on a condom, love a woman.
us poets, will fail you. we'll strip you a martyr song from these tongues and bury them come fall.
and after we honor you at poetry competitions.
dust the trophies of your stained image with our bleached collars.
we'll box away your memories, store them into an attic small enough to hold you casket tight. speak of you over coffee and muffins with the neighbors,
all your fanfare hidden by tattood newspapers.
acquittal synonymous with your name.
7:18 PM
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8 Comments - 14 Kudos
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April 29, 2008 - Tuesday
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raisin' hell - day29
there were days i'd wear the jewlery,
the red plastic and sequin heavy earrings.
ignore the broken box, cracked sternum
to base, rub my fingers down its dusty
creasing and smile. the ear infection should've
been a sign. the accessories had an
unfamiliar scent attached. instead i treated them
like a pair of shoes i could grow into -- the
smell of someone else, pungent with its
presence, clinging to my ear, whispering
hello. years later. after you offer to sell me
a stolen computer. after you return to a wife
and a step-sister i've yet to meet twice. after
you claim i am no longer your daughter, a jail
cell between us like the sibling that dominated
your attention. i will think of that japanse painted
case. the black plastic cracked under pressure.
my grin fading like the memory of your face. the
scabs on my lobes itch as i tip-toe past earrings in
department stores. afraid the smells will feel like
stolen moments. afraid the scars will pus and reopen
your farewell letter and split apart this healing chest.
9:44 PM
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0 Comments - 4 Kudos
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April 28, 2008 - Monday
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flame thrower - day28.2
flame thrower - day28.2
(writing in my sleep is not good. but i owe this.
the other one i wrote. i completely hated. i believe
i could do better... this is so unfinished. but i cant
see and i have to teach in queens @ 7am ps - if you
want to see the first joint - check my site)
you woke this morning, skin under your
fingernails, spit heavy at the corner of your lips.
your thighs still sore from his thigh atop yours
you are almost relieved. to revisit this moment
so many year after a game of amateur wrestling
gone wrong. no one told you those movies weren't
for your12-year-old eyes. the precarious moans
winked a love song to you back then. her parts
divided themselves with glee. a fascination for
your feasting began. it's no wonder you learned
to lay still. a bloody mouth swirling brilliant, you
learned to moan with the best of them. licked girl
parts pictured in porn mags, pawing your insides
with sharpie markers and graceless fingers.
it was the grinding of your teeth that saved you.
a trip to the dentist from the insurgence of your
creaky smiled mother propelled you into a lumpy
chair. the waiting room danced with pastels and
scents of clove oil. his throat itched like an alien as
he sat by the water cooler. he could've been anyone
right now, all these years later. the psorasis on his
hand looked just like your faded baby blanket. it had
yellow and pink flowers spread down its spine. it was
the softest thing you'd ever touched. until you tossed it
in the garbage along with your barbies that summer you
learned your name was synonmous with slut. your breasts
underdeveloped learned to love the whip of inexperienced
paws. the sun was full in the sky and pulsating like your heart
the day he pinned you down. you thought if you squeezed your
eyes tight enough, you could fit this moment in the back of your
dreams. you almost tricked yourself into believing the sun
could burn away his fingerprints, if you moaned loud enough, a
flame thrower in your throat, the next time.
8:33 PM
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4 Comments - 12 Kudos
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untitled - day27
there is much to be said
about you.
if only my vocabulary
could hold you, so golden
an image of everything
rust and bronze and beautiful
you sleep like you know i'm
watching your breath count
pinching my forearm
between thumb and index
swimming drunk in you
6:09 PM
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0 Comments - 2 Kudos
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wish - day26
for a man
whose only fear
is life without you
5:58 PM
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5 Comments - 8 Kudos
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daring - day25
the food taste like cardboard
your eyes search the wall behind me
looking for something to say.
the silence of our breathing flurries about
like we've just climbed a flight of stairs.
our words become a game of musical chairs.
our worlds dance a bit, climbing across the gravy boat
settling in the basket of warm breadsticks
your hands slide over the butter knife,
a child's dare.
i shake away the mention of your youth.
slide an ice cube in my mouth
my eyes graze your scraped wrists.
the razor lines whisper back,
yes,
yes.
5:47 PM
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3 Comments - 8 Kudos
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