We've had our share of low points over the years, that is
not to say this roller coaster is not shared.
But we never compare tickets, we keep them close
So no one ever talks about the ride, not really.

And just as the mechanical beast spun around the corner,
at a point low enough to touch the ground,
we caught glance of another.

We could point at it and shame it for it's color,
it's chipped paint and leaning axel.

What a ridiculous looking roller coaster,
those poor people, we thought from our pedestal,
They look so unhappy.

Yesterday you began to share with me
Quick shrieks from their tapping shoes shouted as a slight reminder we were in the real though this recollection is dripping   In lethargy.
Your chip began to shimmer in the dimmed, shared air
Your pain and strength barreling against one another for a place to burn in your eyes
I saw it then
Different than any other time I had seen it before
Softer
Quieter, yet somehow more powerful than ever.
I understood it then.
We are the juxtaposition,
The cool, supple texture from the rawness mocking our conversation.
You fought to be here and ****** to hell with the rest.

Read-a-book, Share-a-book, library,
That’s how it goes from you to me;
Read it, love it, put it on the shelf,
Then it can be read by somebody else!

Why does poetry often taste of wine,
it's scripture mature and somehow divine.
Cloaked in time,
Each fruit note hidden behind
the words that don't come to mind
cheapened by childish rhyme.
Caught in a dance, intertwined
between two worlds, yours and mine.
Sometimes I think poetry is but a serpentine,
a recollection we must unwind.
Under beats and rhythm we are confined,
Syllables and feeling attempting to align.

Instead, I think I'll write for human kind.

Tell them-
Tell them to take the property,
it's all their's to have.
Tell them to enjoy the bathtub where I birthed my first born
alone, in pain, and saw it go down the drain.
Tell them to soak in the morning light of the spare room we slept in separately all too often.
They themselves can have the windows closest to where the drive-by was.
Your greed and your wants have blinded you like the fresh coat of paint that illuminates the house.

But give me a moment to savor my land.
Let me breathe in the lavender I planted all those years ago
and spare me a second to watch the breeze dance with all the ivory.
Let me walk around my first garden and admire the bulbs,
brush against the lemon balm and the small batch of mint I planted in the shade.

I, too, want to live in peace but cannot scratch out the land
for my nails are still ***** from working my land.

Where do you go
In your mind hole
When you slip Into the oblivion
Thick like the frozen mist that surrounds our mockingly warm entity

When the moon first met the stars,
Did she question
Whether or not
The
Amount
Of
Stars
Surrounding
Made her brighter?

When I was walking in
I couldn’t tell if falling
Out of the sky
Was snow or ash
It seemed logical that
The small bits
Slowly flaking through the air
As if both heavy and weightless
Would be snow.
But given the circumstances
Blood still wet on the classroom floor,
Ash seems more appropriate

Tiny little reminders
Clogging my confidence
Defining my self

She moved here in September
In some ways, the wild west is still wild-
hidden behind brand new shields
bought off the lot,
reflecting the new murals as it passes by.

She'll never forget the fear that lives
one block away from the hip new brewery,
the ross- security guards suddenly not off beat.

"Shut that dog the **** up" he said with the aim on her dog
Real guns, smacked dab in the middle
of the attempted 40 west arts district.

What is it about governments that missed it
and try to make every poor neighborhood an arts district?

So then what?
The answer seems too easily answered
while the reply hangs empty.

And this place, Lakewood
nah, that's nothing.
You only get help if it's declared as something.

But mostly it's the words you said
when the smile faded for a brief moment
That changed me as a person.

And she is just one.
Humanity is layered in trauma
with the worst of it going to brown and black mamas.

I let go of my breath right after
Hadn’t even realized I was holding it
It mattered like it mattered what you wore to the first day of school
At the same time
It was already done and just because it didn’t get excepted didn’t mean it wasn’t a success
I submitted it
Already put it out there
Everything else was hearsay

You are my whole world
All that I do is for you
Your doors are always open
So that when I get inside
I go straight for your red cart.

Like the ocean, you will always remember
The crisp layer of salt-
baked into your skin by the sun’s assault.
A part of your DNA now, you do not exist without it.

Sure, it’s both vast and secretive,
But your questions can never be answered
So many unknowns- your wondering cancered.
They too will rise or sink with the rolling of the waves.

Perhaps there is no storm that turns the tide
And your lips lose their briny bite
Maybe you learn to harness the power the seas invite
But the quiet of your mind sets with the sun.

And your skeptical sirens sing at night.

And the best I could do
Was do as I had done the day before
So I continued to go, I continued to move,
But I forgot to breathe.
And when I looked up, I saw the white of your eyes shimmer from the flames and the terror that accompanied.
What do I say when she tells me she’s scared, what can I even say?
That nothing matters?

Who in the hell set it up like this?
And why in the **** do we have to listen?
My sister said no but holds the hand of her female flesh.
And she is not to blame,
Her choices are logic and practical
But at what point do we get out of our own way?

And so I shut off
And realize that has been my move lately to deal with reality.
Blue lights and blank emotions
The winter breeze swings the new planters on the patio.
The sweet potatoes wake me up and the pomegranates continue to amaze,
Growing more and more ruby as the summer days turn into early autumn evenings.

And although the caterpillars  transformation is covered in thick construction dust and the ground continues to shift,
I can’t help but feel hopeful
I am spring
We are spring.

“Hey Malcolm”
she said with a sort of sweet indifference-
“You want some water and chips?”

His reply-
Incomprehensible sounds that hung heavy
With the thick humidity.

Any other
would have not bothered but her altruism
shone like the surrounding brick.

“Water, chips?”
spoken with a familiar neutrality.
Her kindness did not waiver.

Not deterred-
By the state Malcom or his sour taste
or even the heavy heat

“Chips” he spilled.
The unrelenting sun laughed at his choice but
Her kindness did not waiver.

Door ajar,
She disappeared into the shadows to retrieve
her promised gifts to Malcolm.

Her building,
Glistening red squares that had been bought and sold
Many times since the 80’s.

And Malcom
was just one of the many casualties
to fall in the pure, white cracks.

“Drink water”
She had returned and handed him both drink and chips.
Her kindness did not waiver.

She did not
Ignore Malcolm or pass him by like most-
Her actions small but fearless.

Her kindness did not waiver.

I once met a seahorse at sea,
She came up and swam next to me.
With her baby in tow,
But I had not known
That that mommy fish; she was a he.

The seahorse said how do you do?
I said “I am well, how are you?”
Daddy seahorse replied
“With my babe by my side,
How could I ever be blue?”

During this whole pandemic,
I didn't even think once about you.
When I get scared at night,
I don't wish you were near.
When I long for touch
It's not yours I desire.
Because it was never you, or you, or you.
I have been birthed of the barrier
of a small summary in history.
I can see in both directions,
nothing but untold stories mixed with endless potential.

But I digress.
Because the point is not about the past or the future,
It's about a hopeless feeling,
Strangling your heart beat,
consuming your mind.

Life, as it is, as it were,
moves and you have always been stagnant.
So it is in the past you shall remain.
But a mere smudge in my colorful life.

Touch me often
Hold me close
Let me feel your love
beyond this poetry and prose.

I crave your heat
Seek your hand
Long for your presence
And don't always understand

Why I need you close
even at times of turbulence
your soft quiet contact
reminds me of your presence

And even when our
conversation's unknown
your sweet embrace
makes me feel less alone.

Chocolate, sweet chocolate
How was I to know?
When I ate you yester-
where it would go.

Your crunchy dark square
I ate all in one bite
but little did I know
your powerful might.

I saw all the colors
and heard every sound.
That little sweet chocolate
did not **** around.

So if you're like me
and sweets call you name
beware- this could happen to you
all just the same.

Just tuned up enough
to tune in.

Yes I feel it too,
The twoness that defines
my role and expectation
cemented in their minds.

Yes I feel it too,
the twoness that is there
but my twoness doesn't keep me
from freely breathing air.

Yes I feel it too,
the twoness that burdens me
Though being paid less is not the same
as being pinned down by his knee.

Yes I feel it too,
the twoness he wrote about
My double conscious thinking
but pale skin is my clout.

Because Yes I feel it too
as a woman I am less,
but if I get pulled over,
my life is not in distress.

I can't imagine your kind of twoness,
what is constantly on your mind,
when you see both red and blue lights
flashing from behind.

For how is it you can be
both black and American
when life is always fleeting
because the color of your skin.

Just the other day,
you laughed so hard your eyes
almost completely closed and the tone of
your laugh peaked into it's highest octave.

It was one of those uncontrolled laughs that happen when
you are being savagely tickled, the kind that
escapes from deep in your body, gasping for air,
for life.

But my hands were not on you, the laugh
happened anyway. I am Jack's overwhelming sigh of relief.
It was reassurance,
it was nice, that you still laugh that way,
that I can still make you laugh that way.

I can stop holding my breathe.

Charles Bukowski- Don't try

Franz Kafka- The idea that hardship is constant and insurmountable, but we try to mount it anyway

And frankly, for that matter,
I'm tired of wanting to fit into the vision
that others seem to burden us with.

You barely even know me, I
have to look at the screen to summon your name.
But your opinion falls out of your mouth,
like we've been friends for years and
you couldn't wait to share the good news.

I don't like it, any of it,
not because of you, perhaps just a touch,
but because you know nothing about us.
The devil is in the details and,
so is that of the reflection of love.

And now we have the weight of it all on our shoulders,
to carry up the mountain and walk with on the beach.
Hands clasped, or not, the weight is a cloud of expectancy
that lingers over us.
Tainted.

I have jumped off
Ran in the rain
Took a big breath
Talked through the pain

I’ve sat on the beach
Purchased a home
Said nothing at all
At times felt alone

You’ve been by my side
Asked me to leap
We’ve been high in the clouds
And in water so deep

I don’t know if I would
Have pushed myself there
I take a big breath
And fly through the air

Your hands always close
Your comfort is round
I’ve never been so happy
When my feet leave the ground