Poetry

Between

Is it enoughto know the possibilitybut never act on one's potential sins?

Seebut sometimesactions speak louderthan overheards.

Ripped that off a schizothought I'd see if the fucking intellectualswould call it genius.

Such a finefine line.

Spectrum

When it rains where you areis it yellow?

Tangerine?I kinda feel

HereHere's devoid of such brilliance.

the rainthe sky

our heartsHere

It's all just white.

And I can never rememberif it's black that holds all coloror if white encompasses those shades...

But hereIt's all just white.

Shipwreck

There are timeswhen the shipwreck insidesinister | deeprises creeping to the surface.

Salt brine | Sea tearsCurrents churn internalfight through the moaning woodleak down my pale cheek.

The wreck inside surfacesa strange dark reminderof all pretense fading

Cope | Naked

We must recallthe souls dwellingthe wrecks risingin that sea you must call home.

Let it rise.Let us see.

Caribbean

You were an Autumn leafBuff and dryCurling into yourselfTook no care of being trampled.

You were Adam's generous ribThrown sidelong to wild dogsRememberYou were not garbage.

You could feel the burna tiny bee relinquishinginto your waiting fleshCan you still feel it?

An English name I think;Anne.Why were you given such a name?You look so African.

Poetry

Crocus

When spring comes to usthe first face we seeis the spying little crocus:Always a priority

in the chronology[in the hierarchy]

of spring flowers.

The rest come marchingsecretly after.

Which one comes in that initial swell?After the rains declineWhose face do you see?

Arab

Steam cloaksthe force of the waterfalla visage of prolonged beauty.

Mist drapesthe power of the waterfalla veil over ancient dances[except their eyes]EnigmasThose shadowed eyes.

Cloaked and draped and veiledMuhammad's warrior wives

Yes.Yes.

Yes, they still dwell within.

Old Seminole Woman

Part IStretching through insidepulling at my musclespushing through intestinessnapping at tendonswandering through my blood

Old Seminole woman.

Part III never knew.Does that mean my blooddoesn't flow with lost currentsof (my) people?

I never knewmy great, great grandmothermy Seminole woman.

I knewGermanyAmericaI knewpfeffernüssespam casserole

I never knew youI never knew blood

Poetry

The Mark

Part I

Mine manifestedan inverted bruiseyellow! purple! green!Pool cue tractof [willing] flesh

Yours manifestedtwo sphere bruiseorange! brown! blue!The business end of a rifle

How long will we remainforever willing?

Part II

I contemplate the markwhat version of pain I'll endureSeeringThrobbingJarring?I contemplate the markitselfa reminder of untainted creationfrom ancient handscrafting beauty.I contemplate the markthe form it will take:a winged creature in full flightin the hope of finalindigenous freedom.