Tuesday, August 5, 2014


4 aug 


may you surge like a michigan storm
may you cover the sky in seconds
and explode into brilliance and deafening thunder

may you drop back into the unknown
extend your hands and trust the earth will hold you
may you catch the rebound of your arms and legs
accept your dharma and embrace your fall

may you love like a pack of wild dogs
may you love for the sake of loving
with no expectation of return
may you grow more foolish with each heart opening

may you forgive yourself like trees forgive droughts
may you catch yourself in your own delusions
may you see yourself as your great grandmother sees you
may you gloat in unearned grace

7 july


hey, y’all, why not let me be
the receptacle of all your insecurities?
why not project your fears onto me?
why not hang me out to dry
on that god-forsaken cross?

go ahead
i can take it, i’m a mom
let me be your blank screen 
so you can play and replay 
the narrative of your victimhood
to your heart’s content

attack me all you want
‘cause you know i won’t bite back
i hide under the guise of nonviolence
but really i might just believe your truth over mine

let me wallow in the embarrassment
of my privilege
the daughter of scholars
and degrees i cannot disown
i come from appeasement stock
internalized racism so deep we thought we were white

why not say
“your project is too ambitious”
when i can’t see any other way to survive
“you’re moving too fast”
when i feel i am crawling 
“you’re pushing too hard”
when i’m forcing myself to sit on my hands

let me just roll on over
be buried alive by the brutality of capitalism
white supremacy
let me be crushed under the weight of caste

let my gravestone read
“oh well, nice try”

3 july


fruit so lush
it litters the boulevard
berries fall into my hand
with a mere stroke
staining nailbeds purple

no one loves her like me
if others notice they don’t show it
boughs so heavy with berries 
i must be the one and only who has ever stopped here

mulberries the most under-appreciated berry
come july mulberries stain every street in detroit purple
“a messy tree”
my neighbor says
or “they’re poisonous” children are told

with my empty jar
i stand under her canopy
she rewards me for the attention i pay
dropping berries onto my sweat-stiffened hair
they roll down my shoulders
and under my purple-soled feet
i lavish her with praise by scattering her fruit

sweeter this year than last
let’s just say the ass-freezing winter
is good for berry trees
let’s just say 
winter was good for goddamn something

man pushing a grocery cart 
down the middle of the street
stops to check on me
“y’alright? now be careful”

and he walks on
before i can offer him a handful
of sunned-sugar winter-surviving 
mouth melting black sweet
explosion of mulberry

no one i tell you
no one loves her like i do