Laya's hands are small, almost childlike, and she is a short woman, easily a head below me, but she seems to tower above me. It's not the first marvel. She escorts me, with a bit of a waddle, to the massage therapy room, and I think, "This is going to be good." Something about her fragrance,... Continue Reading →
Biscuits I am quite blessed to be gifted with guests who visit my life my soul and take me into their arms as warm as biscuits with sweet yellow butter a bit of honey and they say, "you’re okay, girl," and they mean it and I feel gentle again. I shall die some death some... Continue Reading →
My brother’s bedroom was off limits, but that never stopped me from many things in my youth. Having eight siblings, 72 first cousins, and hundreds of class mates at St Mary’s of Redford grade, middle and high school—let alone thousands of parishioners in our little corner of the Detroit metropolis—there was always someone not to... Continue Reading →
Word Jam Words, words, wonderful words; never enough, words are birds Rhythm, rhyme, keeping time; words are magic, before, behind Into gold, out of blue; there's not one thing that words can't do Tell me more, teach me chants; let me show you how words can dance Every letter, each dotted "i"; makes my pencil... Continue Reading →
Survive high desert No hangovers, drunk dialing Not one shot, no lime Survive
century plant blooms once, celebrates with aplomb a round for the house
I'm not much one for make-up. Never have been really except perhaps for those early days of adolescence. When the discovery of blue eyelids and long lashes had a timely empowering factor. I could change how I looked, quite dramatically, or subtly. But I had that power. And I was something. It was that simple. I... Continue Reading →
This Dress It doesn't fit, Mom this dress, your death it's like a net, in satin wrapped around me, I'm trapped in this collar, I flounder I can't get it right it's not my size I wish I was naked and you had your breath. It's a straight jacket in black, I'm crazy like burlap,... Continue Reading →
Drums that Heal No now, no next. Ma. Who knew that on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in the Flagstaff Public Library, I would find the word I needed to capture my current state of affairs, and from Taiko drummers at that. Five performers pounding out their hearts, and pounding right into mine. This group's performance... Continue Reading →
for my girls, even Riana, who doesn't like poetry The Cranberry Line Follow the cranberry line of dawn, go home reach far, the moon is only a lost star looking for sunrise, for the saffron tide; waves like Aurora’s children on the verge of morning, stretch and rub their eyes. Be a poet. Be that... Continue Reading →
pocket poet 