As the leaves let go their branches
Into their graceful twirling dance
Touching ground to find new purpose
Their death is but a second chance

Soon the snows will blanket forests
Cover hands now cracked and dry
Beneath a white and sliver carpet
Delivered to them from the sky

Upon the ground the years do pile
Becoming soul food for the tree
Like the leaves keep yearly dropping
Emotions keep escaping me

Oddly less feminine,
was the flower
without the colour
who ate the bees with crunches and these
labor scents of oil and dirt
And nails was the petals that
hissed and spat
the flower, the wonder
who grew through
The legs of a man
Over under, near she ponder
I do slightly ever so wonder
How does one break the hand
Oddly less feminine the flower
Who lacked not the power
who pollinated herself with tender roots,
Who stole the sting from wasp alike,
a flower all white,

Your body looked like a classical Greek statue
Under the nightly dark of some mysterious museum gallery
Soft light on marble skin glowing
Upon warm, pale supple curves
Casting shadows so deep, so irresistibly dark
I plunge into the event horizon of your love
Molecules torn apart
Rearranged in infinite states
I re-emerge, now wholly different
A parallel familiar place
The gallery and mystery
The statue near that dark staircase
Fabric of this dream dissolves
Swept away without a trace

One Kira Noir,
With some Riley Reid,
I know they're not real,
But they're real to me

Indulged in the vice,
Since the age of twelve,
Preacher preached sermon,
"You're going to hell"

Enticing allure,
Calling quietly,
"A little bit more,
Last time you'll see"

What is all of hope,
Trapped in misery,
Washed with bloody cloth,
Rinsed in secrecy

Natural or not,
It feels like prison,
Nothing free about,
This indecision

Everyone likes to talk about the openly oppressed, the accused and the accuser,
But what about the black children forced into a life full of solitary confinement slapped with a label of privileged
You are white, enough
They cheered
Straighten my hair not for looks, and not for myself
But to blend in, be contained and quiet
Curly hair pinned and brushed beyond repair,
Sitting in the hairdressers while they lather concoctions to ‘keep those curls away, and to ‘tame the frizz’
Shunned from my aunties black owned hair salon

between cracks,
i have glimpsed pollinated red flowers
ablaze when illuminated.
i, on the other, a mold
in moisture of dark secluded space
hardly even seeing directly
the glow of mother star
maybe on some fortunate days
inches away, a light beam leaks through
like a thread of white-gold filament,
some stray might even say,
a strand of the sun goddess' hair
mesmerizing, yet still falls short
of badly needed warmth.

May my love pervade your sphere
Enrich and charge the brittle air
Enhance and not invade your space
Hearts beat truth, intentions clear

the grass quivered slightly with thickening tension,
dark clouds like graphite smudge fell hard off dusk’s shoulder
Diffused to cover the bloodied sun
that already has been given its last rites to sink.

on the horizon where the stars and frosted glass table sea merge,
flocks of seabirds emerge under the gray low light
as if a volley of arrows shot inland from invisible ships
following closely, the low waves of foaming spilled cream
crashing onto the bayonet rocks in the shore.

Vignettes of lover's arms and lips
born from long ago
I'm firmly in the today
but I wanted them to know

You gave me nights of passion
light in days of sorrow
You taught me how to love
to think about tomorrow

So now that I have brought you
all to fore of mind
The ones that still live on
I hope don't think of me unkind

Because, no matter how we parted
there are memories sweet
I choose to remember them
instead of pictures of defeat

To have a sphere of friends
In high orbit, above, around
Like satellites in good repair
With clear sight lines to the ground
Send them signals, they bounce back
Invisible and without sound
Moves me at the speed of light
To a place where I am found