I’ve always written poems and lyrics as spells and intentions, weaving or unweaving. In recent years I have attempted to craft and workshop these more, though I’m still rarely satisfied with the results.
Archives by Year:
Cringe, everyday I do
Did you figure out why they told you to stay away? That riff on evolution and revolution and a mean plate of food had them swarming the lab back in the day. I volunteered for reeducation, rightly so. I was misinformed and mistaken. Did they say I was crazy, did they say I’ve hurt many? …
Weaponized Cries
This is not for Tyre, George, or Breonna, this is for you and me. Children of much lesser gods than those of the people who once were held as slaves. Let’s call us non-Black, for that get’s closer to to the fact; no one is white. It is unnerving as it should be. Utterly debilitating …
I am a Dancehall at Dawn
My ego dances between a desire to be known, to be a part of something, an overarching distaste and mistrust of my own kind, and a fear of being seen. Sometimes it is a sloppy and frustrated tango, other times a sad, precise waltz. My mind is a dance hall, emotions on the tables. There …
Thee Dream, Thee Record, Thee Moon
Had thee dream last night. The one about making thee record. The one that I used to have all the time. The full moon dream sessions, lost hot wax traveling through time space, her face. The desire to see and be seen. Reoccurring drama, doubled up pain. I should have never asked her to sing, …
Ode to the Bassheads
One of my favorite things about living in the city are the sounds; the rhythms. The way in which patterns weave together only to fall apart again. The bassheads booming, rolling up and down the street, while we’re porch sitting with the kids on a Saturday night. Summer. The crackled call and response between the …
The 33rd degree
28 sunrises since the last 23rd, 5 to go till the first spring moon. The movement of the moniker is the easiest of the motions made this month. A cycle of clarity, allowing the chaos to encircle without calling corners, to clean out cobwebs, reconnect synapses. Pain allowed to be perceived. Thoughts unwanted, thawed. Sights …
As goes Detroit, so goes the World
As goes Detroit, so goes the world. It’s a portal for global transformation, but not the way you’ve heard of or will. It’s a unique node on the construct, a place where the water turns, where crystals churn underneath, where the blood in the river’s still heard. And the people struggle on and on against hundreds of …
The Lights Flickering, Vichy Detroit
The lights flickered again and we laughed about it. I wondered if they were flickering up the street at the house. The kids wouldn’t notice in the unabashed chaotic joy of a sitter. Our kids were, for the most part, unaware of the war or the occupation. Of course, they seemed more aware of it …
A Clarificational
Manifesto read roughly, falling into sleep, waking to more blood. As usual, this isn’t a confessional, it’s a clarificational, clarity to combat manifestos. I have absolutely no idea what I am doing here, I mean, I don’t and I do. I’m not getting older I’m getting thinner, stretched out on the horizon before and behind. There …
Blood Money
Don’t worry old fam, I’m not coming to the funeral. I’m not looking for a payday and won’t be coming round to collect a dime. I’ve spent my life trying to do it without your blood money, struggling so I wouldn’t be in further debt to the man who brought me into this world and …