#Americans #Blacks #Gays #Lesbian #Women
An upright abutment in the mouth of the Willis Avenue bridge a beige Honda leaps the divider like a steel gazelle inescapable sleek leather boots on the pavemen…
There are so many roots to the tre… that sometimes the branches shatte… before they bear. Sitting in Nedicks the women rally before they march
I have not ever seen my father’s g… Not that his judgment eyes have been forgotten nor his great hands’ print on our evening doorknobs
I am fourteen and my skin has betrayed me the boy I cannot live without still sucks his thumb in secret
My face resembles your face less and less each day. When I wa… no one mistook whose child I was. Features build coloring alone among my creamy fine-boned s…
The difference between poetry and… is being ready to kill yourself instead of your children. I am trapped on a desert of raw gu…
I have studied the tight curls on… moving away from me beyond anger or failure your face in the evening schools o… through mornings of wish and ripen
Is the total black, being spoken From the earth's inside. There are many kinds of open. How a diamond comes into a knot of… How a sound comes into a word, col…
If you come as softly As the wind within the trees You may hear what I hear See what sorrow sees. If you come as lightly
My mother had two faces and a fryi… where she cooked up her daughters into girls before she fixed our dinner. My mother had two faces
For those of us who live at the sh… standing upon the constant edges o… crucial and alone for those of us who cannot indulge the passing dreams of choice
Moon marked and touched by sun my magic is unwritten but when the sea turns back it will leave my shape behind. I seek no favor
The edge of our bed was a wide gri… where your fifteen-year-old daught… gut-sprung on police wheels a cablegram nailed to the wood next to a map of the Western Rese…
Time collapses between the lips of… my days collapse into a hollow tub… soon implodes against now like an iron wall my eyes are blocked with rubble
Out of my flesh that hungers and my mouth that knows comes the shape I am seeking for reason. The curve of your waiting body