Monday, January 23, 2017

Black Teenager

I see you looking at me
From a distance
As far away
As 10 years ago

You look at me like
I'm about to give you
All the easy answers
To all the hard questions you've been living


"When is the money going to run out?"
"Will I ever fall in love
"Will my skin ever stop feeling like a curse?"
"Will I ever meet God again. If I do will He love me?"

More importantly -- will  I let him??

Like an oracle
I take 10 years of your time as an offering
Then answer you in riddles
I say things like the answers you're looking for
Can't be found or given
You can only live them.

The money will never run out because your family
Can't bear to say no to their firstborn blood
And sometimes that will comfort you
Most times it will eat you alive.

You will fall in love and have your heartbroken
So thoroughly that all the love you thought
You didn't have will spill out of you in a red tide
Onto a dirty mattress in a small, 2-bedroom house
you are trapped inside

You will dress that wound
In your Sunday best
Walking with your head held high
Not cause of your pride
But cause you're afraid to look down
And just like that
Just like a curse manifesting in the moonlight

God will peer through your window
Ask you where you've been hiding this whole time
And you will say
In this skin so dark you couldn't see me in broad daylight

And he will laugh
The sound of God laughing is you waking up at 6:00am
When three hours earlier you couldn't even imagine still being here

You'll ask him where's been this whole time
And he'll ask if you'd like for him to take you there
And you'll say yes
When you arrive you will see the pearls and know where you are
Realize you were never too concerned with meeting God again
You just wanted to know where he live
To see where he wakes up at 6AM
You will call it heaven -- a place where you can love all the people you couldn't on Earth
And you will call it good.

Friday, December 30, 2016

Microculture: Knot

Comb your fingers
Through the threads
Of your history
Pull the fibers apart
Of every knot within
Look inside
The stitches of memory:

Recall every moment when
Instead of being a heart-shaped box
You chose to be a garden tool

Recall every moment when
Instead of being loved
You chose to be useful

Trying to gain unconditional love
With conditional behavior

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Microculture: Dysphoria

1. What comes first?

A. The right place?
B.The right time?
C. The right body?

2. How many times can you keep lifting weights until the weight of feeling like your body is too heavy to lift subsides?

A. 3 months ago?
B. By New Years?
C. In another lifetime?

3. If, by your choice, you could create a t-shirt of encouraging phrases friends and family offer you -- what would it say?

A. Keep up the good work!
B. You seem like you have a lot more energy lately!
C. 3 months ago, you were the smallest you've ever been.

To be a body is to be:

A. A mirror
B. A marble
C. Both
D. Everything, all at once.

Microculture: Ritual

Once again
You in bed
Covered in sheets as
Pale as the face of the moon
Choked in cold light
Arms wrapped so tight around your chest
That your hands can almost hold each other
Behind your back
Like a snake coiled so tight
With its own tail in its mouth
To form a seal rich with magic
For this nightly ritual

What are you holding in?
Who are you keeping out?

Monday, December 26, 2016

Microculture: Washing Dishes

How can you not
Enjoy the thought
Of something once dirty
Being made clean
And put in its right place
Again and again


Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Microculture: Bald

I remember scrolling through
Old profile pictures of me
With you
Before I knew you
Before my hair was long

Upon seeing me with a bald, shaved head

You said
"I think I prefer your hair grown out"

So I kept it that way
It seemed like a small price to pay for love

When you left

I kept growing my hair out for another 9 months
Thinking I could entwine some strand of time
From the timeline in which you preferred me
Locked in the coils of my hair

So imagine my scalp's breath of fresh air
When I shaved it all off
Watched those tendrils of black drop like clouds of ash onto the kitchen floor
Like a timeline crumbling away to the honesty of a razor
And I looked in the mirror


For the first time in a long time
Felt as if I could be beautiful
Without your approval

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Microculture: Run

The best part
About going for a run
Is that moment when you finish
And you walk so you can cooldown
And you're listening to Mogwai, or Television, or Patti Smith
And you can see the pinkness of the sky
Bruise into purple before going black
Like the closing of a cosmic eye
And no one is fucking with you
And you think about what
You are going to eat when you get home
After you get out of the shower
And you think about six months ago
When he left you
To go cradle someone else
In his arms
And you think about how then
That was all you needed
But then you snap back to reality
And realize that everything you needed
Is cradled in the vault of the sky
Cradled in the arc of your headphones
Cradles in your slowing stride
As you walk to a place
You know you belong