Poetry

A key labor of freedom It to transition from a civilization Of self-actualization To an encampment of other-actualization When the externality Of the bare minimum is dominant It means that optimistically There is room to grow to fulfill Our dimensions of otherness and other-heard

I need no preamble to suffocate This line This matter of exposure across the defense Of sorry stolen quarters Where we live there is a presence A 40-year-old lie that is a man Tailored across the atmosphere And into this poem This sad equation He sits, no I sit in an Open space aberration With […]

[You may first need to read: “A tomato is also a love apple“] I am revisiting the love apple That my rabbi shared with me I did not tell her I have shared a love apple With Elijah In a dark and hopeless time Where I allowed myself to fall Fall so far into walking […]

The violence of poverty The poverty of violence We are each guilty of Contributing To the oratory of violent composure In the face of the austerity of compassion

There is a wandering bird It will enter your nose And explore your mind It will know all your secrets Then you will know the bird is God The bird has always been God All the birds are God The moment the bird approaches you To enter your nose and into your mind It seems […]

For years the voices insisted That Lagos Egrace would Be made great “We are going to make Egrace great,” I heard These are the exchanges Of wind molly for puppies And solid confines Of juniper grass stones From stolen amber arches Way-ed down to the millet For content must and fuss The engines of the […]

The October noon Sits in retreat From duty or imposing beauty It is short of dry wind And incisors on high Like a fragment message That does not dive or regress From letter messages From fostered drawings It forgets its retirement Just once a year For the part on high With stretched out limbs And […]

So we have arrived at the outbreak The sun has sunken to the bellow danger The remorse for standing waves Do not tuck in the tide Not like she used to On evenings so well remembered The lament in the standing free zone But of course I have become Too acquainted like a mother’s bird […]

I wrote a play, titled, The Bolian Ash Whispers, About hornets’s nests dives And brick mortar cylinders Across the peripheral cascade And into mountain water Too close to descend The storm-laced rocks Too adolescent to Withdrawal from the mountain circles But the Bolian ash whispers With dining lights Offering cuneiform groves And resembling the offering […]

The bread of wealth The breadth of will Sediment waves Broken dawns Too turbulent From the flush Grace to will For the portraits Of oppressed windows Broken teeth And candy storms