twins get to sleep in the living room on weekends
sitting at my desk, I can hear them talking
their bond is tighter than anything

and finally, in bits & pieces, love slips in
in spite of myself, hearing my girls talking
is as good as I can imagine it will get

& Ramona tells me
"Mom, just caaaaallllm down"
Sasha threatens me with dire things

now demanding musical instruments
how can one think of anything else
when Sashie is using my own voice
perfect imitation of a mommy driven

over
the
edge. . . .

now they just found the moon outside the window,
my girls taunt moon, calling him out, teasing

"hey look" they cry "it's morning"

so many giggles, I am covered in girlies
who rain down giggles upon me & moon


moon & me both hide our faces
in front of such joy

you're not even selfish;
would u call the universe selfish!?

Medusa turns to face you and replies,
in monotone, like a dirge:

Yes. The Universe insists upon itself.
That is a certainty. I would call the Universe
Down upon my very head if needed
to say simply this:

Our Universe, Our Call.
My Universe is Willful,
Playful, Immoral as Hell.

Let it roll.

rapping on your window, wondering if you'll let me in
all the gals down on the E train placed bets on you
saying no, but here we are, back at your door
anyway, because why not have faith in luck

wearing my stolen blue mink, don't tell me if she wants it back
she don't know me, nobody invited her anyway
maybe outer space has bigger plans for her
could be

so come on, johnny, take me dancing, c'mon, baby
let me in, it's warm up on your roof but cold without you
look, stole you magnolias, and my whole back seat is full
excellent Chinese takeout, so baby come out tonight

just come on out and show me around this ten cent town
never been here before, wanna see your hideouts
let's go to some dive bars, dance til our heels fall off
you can wear my blue mink if you'll loan me those

crazy spiked boots, toss me a hat
here we go, finally, a night on this town
can't wait to see Spanish Harlem
with you

Seated on a chair coupled with a table
Wanna write something about you
But nothing does comes through

I'm confused
Could it be we're no more fused
Or our bond has been loosed
Am trying to find you
But you're no where close

I only see foes

How could I have known
That you'll turn out to be this cold
Even though I was never told
I still couldn't  decode
That there ain't gonna be a yold

Seems our memories have been stolen
My heart is broken
I can't help but open up

Even when you said it was over
You weren't sober
At times I solemnly wonder
If we're really lovers

But I hope you see this and reconsider

With a burning desire
The hearts of men are pervaded with doubts
About what their future seems like
Decisions they take appears to be right
But things still don't work out

They're bewildered by the nature of life ,
What they don't understand is that the time isn't right
They try and try but it all goes into the sky

They wonder where the problem protudes from
But the fact is ,"Men only want to acquire
But they obliviate to inquire"

He left her for the keys
Standing in the hall
Shamefaced secret.

She watched him
Walk down the road
To catch the bus.

We all know wrong doing
And do it anyway
Never seeing.

They had been on the bed
A bunch of keys
To his office.

She had moved them
To under the bed
Out of view.

He needed them for work
At Hyde Park Corner
To open building.

Had she seen them
‘No’, she said.
Lied.

Her brother got blamed
After keys were found,
She kept silent.

This is one act of cowardice
One thoughtlessness
Never to be repeated.

Love Mary x

a sluggish but proud zulu man
stopped me in my trek to no-
where as my fingers searched
for a grip in the dehydrated sou-
thern sand. he held a leather-bound
book with the words “the holy bible”
struggling to stay embedded. befitting
resemblance of the seminar he gave me;
scuffling through testimonies and biblical
verses that lead into various explanations
which were suspected. i asked him if he
believed anything he had just said. he
confessed, he’d been questioning
everything he had memorised and read.
he guided me into a tangent about
his distain for the greedy and the
need for the restoration of his ancestors
land. i asked why black people get
massacred when we articulate our
desire for economic empowerment and grass.
he listed to me everything which he was
taught was wrong with the indigenous
people, which, supposedly, justified the past.
i stopped him in his own trek through self-hate,
anguish and pity and i said this to him,
“if you change the way black people think,
you change the way white people get money...”

-t.m

How can you say that the world is plain,
When waterfalls fall with the fall of the rain,
And puddles are gleaming like brand-new veneer?
Don't you know there is magic here?

I look at the flowers and expect to see Fae,
Yawning and stretching at dawn of the day,
Or harvesting dewdrops which fall in the night,
Flitting and flying from left to the right.

Have you walked through the forest and breathed in the air?
Have you laughed as the chipmunks ran fast from the hare?
Have you noticed how leaves turn the golden light green?
Have you seen all there is in the woods to be seen?

Oh Friend, have you stretched out your hands to the sun?
Have you seen the sky change since the day has begun?
Will you lift up your eyes and be wrapped in the dark,
And watch as the moon and the stars make their mark?

Do you really not know there is magic here,
While the puddles are gleaming like brand-new veneer,
And the waterfalls fall with the fall of the rain?
How can you say that the world is plain?