I am from nothing.

From privilege thoughts
and poor choices.

I am from rumpled
school uniforms
and skinned knees.

From the stinging
taste of red clay
to the black and
blue sleeves of
prepubescent rage.

I am from
giant dogwoods
whose long-
reaching branches
scrapped against
that endless,
black celling.


The forever
nights, holding
on to Dogwood
limbs. Eyes un-
blinking. Starring
into the abyss
of creation.

From
Cap’n Crunch
and chocolate
milk to black
coffee and cigarettes.

I am from
absent brothers
and forgetful
fathers.

I am from
awkward crushes
to adolescent  
wet-dreams of
the budding
tulips walking
down our halls.

From the
class clowns
to the wall-
flowers.

From the
****-ups
to the
Prima
Donnas.

From the Sunday fields
of old and new
to the Wednesday
rivers of the born again.

I am from
the warming
light.