Radically warm
How cold have we become that some call a genuine smile and human touch oddly warm? How guarded have we
poem
Haunting Sunday
Sunday blues this early morning, I hold my chest and close my eyes, wish I could escape from this war
Tired, truly
Tired, truly. Of words that fall out reckless from careless tongues; half-formed, half-thought, like they were never meant to mean
Hooded Heartless Complying Thugs: A Poem
I’m broken by the sound of weeping mothers as they’re dragged down by yet another hooded heartless complying thug dehumanizing
I have nothing left in me
I have nothing left in me But I walk the long way home to seize the day ignore the news
United we’ll stand
Sitting on my doubts and questions in the turbulence of a time so uncertain, knowing that we collectively have the
Bloom and wither: tales of selective memory
The worst pain in my chest, my eyes couldn’t be more red. My hopes and dreams with you through that
Routine and familiarity
Seven corners, too many walls, battled windows, an old white door simple closets unknown history hide of long gone muted
The day I die
The day I die I hope it is timely. I hope it’s mild and sunny while I love the rain
Gentle white flags: I’ve come far
I forget why I hated you Between the changing of seasons, the tears and the fair reasons you gave me
Colors of my vibe and heart
I forget what sweet things I want to write when I look back and realize how many unsent letters I
Words – they mean things
Big, like an enthusiastic move like today’s news like my dreams my energy, like my blues Bright, in my eyes,