whatever you’re drinking,
pour me one
I want to fly into the sunset…
Category Archive: Free Form
the half-pout
of your lips
draws me in
like a vortex…
it’s not floating,
this in-between
feeling you speak…
pocketful of posies
or daisies
or whatever wildflower…
Do you think the water here
is clear because it has never lied?…
can you sing along
when I can’t hold
the tune…
The first three notes
tell me to sing…
he was a bastard
and a coward…
Why is your hand
the imprint of a griddle
on my side?…
I’m tired of fearing men,
and I want to tell the black man
I’m not crossing the street
because he’s black,
but because he’s a man…