haiku 10.4.16 (for National Poetry Day)


peaches and your lips
transmit a sweetness through dusk
that make half moons blush


breathing after a hard rain


when i breathe
during the time of the hard and heavy clouds
the cracks
spiderwebs of tears silent and stifled
bitter words and glances
spring up along the skin
straining, hurting to fly forth
during a hard rain
brings forth all pain borrowed and earned

breathing during a hard rain
taking time to glue pieces back together
to let some pieces stay adrift
thinking maybe you’ll see them last before you pass on
it isn’t like summer camp
where popsicle sticks seemed to be the strongest thing
in the world
homes fall, families splinter
and you are are all specks of sand on malicious winds

breathing during a hard rain
until you return to yourself
on a drumbeat that tapers off within your ears
but crowds out the doubts and regrets
that persist like morphine drips
the petrichor tells you, “enough”
the rainbow sign tells you, you are more than enough
and the spiderweb ceases to hurt for now
and you

you journey on.


youth of thirteen

*note – this was written upon hearing of the murder of
Tyree King, of Columbus, Ohio which took place last night.


beer swillers
who invoke the name of football Jesus
tithing with assorted barbecue
and pray to a flat screen

those who cry patriotism
like trivia answers to game show hosts
who can’t hear them
do not give one care to why Black mothers tend to scream

they tell you racism is done
because they can quote your dead leaders to you
wondering why we march
why we speak out loud and yell – what does it mean?

we turn to you
eyes weary from mourning heart weary from evenings
where we bite cop bullets for fitting a description
mirroring systemic evil unseen

and ask:

what use is standing to pointlessly cherish a flag
when you use that flag
to insist we don’t belong – though we do, more than you
to even slaughter a youth of thirteen?

the floorboards’ chatter


when there are quiet moments
are the interpreters
for the heart’s voice we clothe from the world
save for a few

i think of you
or rather, think of being with you
barefoot and swaying in each other’s arms
wearing t-shirts, the golden apple glow of autumn
and no regrets

the floorboards
creaking slightly beneath us, sighing
as another story writes itself in gentle steps
from rug to rug and from easy smile to easy smile
they hold fast and give

much like i imagine
we would
and so i hear my own floorboards
echo this hidden talk from my heart
as i grab coffee and write what i have yet to say

to you

Labor Day ’16 Sale!!!


What’s happening readers?

I’m here to announce that there’s now currently a sale
going on in my webstore for the Labor Day holiday weekend.
From now until September 6th, ALL of my books are on
sale for $4 dollars. That’s right, four bucks. No codes are
necessary. For those of you who haven’t purchased any of
my books previously, this is your chance to grab them at
a good rate. For those who have, this is a great way to get
a gift of words for your loved ones. As always, if you spread
the word and/or make a purchase it is greatly appreciated.
Thank you very much!!!



second cough at 6:47 a.m.

the air hangs heavy
waiting perhaps for rain just like
any other fool with dry grass
these are hours
that wait for you at the bathroom mirror
wait for you to stare

what was that saying about the abyss and

the heaviness of the air
around your worries eases a bit
you know that there will only be more
but you know that there will be coffee
and the hours that don’t expect much of you
will nod with quiet approval as you move through minutes
and so another day you think you cannot get through

sits on a curb in the rearview mirror of your later dreams

waiting on rain


waiting for rain
is a tension felt upon the tongue
is inhaling copper, water and softness
donated by a flower

waiting for rain
the dance steps between admirers
in measured, looming sentences
horizon rumbling as a band’s opening chorus

waiting for rain
swollen, waiting
wanting what could be
wanting the electricity to soothe the skin

waiting for rain
the first staccato of relief
then the rush of blessed water
making the music we know how to sing

it is why the drops are welcome.


two singles means a lot.


while out yesterday, I saw this one cat just moving through
the outdoor patio. most gave him a wide berth. I’m on the
phone, but I picked up his walk from like 30 feet away. he
looked at me, I looked at him. could tell he had some hard
times. but I didn’t recoil. he strode over near me, said “what’s
good bruh?” and I nodded, said “everything brother, maintainin’.”
he walks up to me after that, and proceeds to tell me he
just got out of Dannemora about two days ago. I listen, and
I then see the flashes of whatever he saw in there in his
face. knowing what it was, I had my hand in my pocket on
a single or two. as he finished, I said “it’s all good man.” &
gave him the singles. he looked at me briefly in shock and
gave me dap and a hug. “thank you brother, God bless you.
you don’t even know what this means, man” I just nodded
and said “All good bruh, be safe out here.” as he walked off.

two singles may not mean so much to you and me off the
bat but when it’s the razor cut that could sever you from all
you know or whatever ties to what you’re trying to hold to…