The moon affects how I think.
With its cycles, a fundamental
part of me changes, and 
I’m not supposed to be
this way. I’m not supposed
to want you the way I do. Yet,
here I am, being pulled
by your gravity, digging
my heels in to no avail.
I grip the ground, only
to be swept away by the force
of you. So, I close my eyes
and let myself be dragged
away with the tides. 

Some days
it is better
to go to
sleep 

than to write
a poem with 
no soul
before
mid-
night

The poem I started earlier was erased
So I’m reminded of the irony
When I stare in the face
Of a non melanated person who tells me
That I can’t enter this building
Through this entrance
And indeed,
If I’m not performing or entertainment
Then to get in I need to make different arrangements
The space for the merchants where I can spend
Is right around the corner
Where they’re allowed to vend
Now, if I make my way down to that entrance
And you make your way to it to let me in
Almost as if to make it appear that we’re friends
Or that we’re now even because you allowed me
Entrance
Never mind the fact that you are occupying a
Historically black space 
And then I turn the corner to the vendors
And it’s then that I’m reminded
And I remember
The very reason why initially
A few years ago
A few of us banded together
To give black-owned businesses 
Both Large
and small
A day to gain revenue 
And it took shape in the form 
Of a cookout and festival
And even though the city tried their very best
To shut it down
Every year they held it
And it became more popular in town
So now that it’s a federal holiday
They had to accept and adopt
And now they put it on the calendar
And throw their own thing
And gatekeep those who they want onstage 
With a couple of those we respect 
To allow them some currency
So now we get to let them determine our order 
Our worth
And every single year now they get to act
Like they discovered it
First
And that’s why today was a stark reminder
Of why I was intent
On aligning with those who were obsessed
With carving out
Our very own space
But you can let them keep playing
In your face
So I supported as many black businesses as possible today,
Left
And I’ll see y’all at Charles Young
This Saturday

There is a crease below the knot
of my tie, today:  evidence

of interaction
in the days before
the new year.

I discover a dusty sheen–
flesh-colored, seemingly
alive–in the grey blue
of my eyes, in the silk
of this tie

and as I wait
for the next life
to begin, 

as I wait
to interview
a new me,

you are there
or the remnant of
you is there.

All of you.

I wipe the fabric.
I press the crease.

I walk forward
and leave
the past

behind.

algae as 

If I wasn’t born in this time frame,
I may have started a collection of
Beanie Babies and played on my
Tamagotchi while waiting for you
in the nineties. I may have listened 
to my Walkman chewing bubblegum
and attempted to impress you by 
solving a Rubik’s Cube in the eighties.
I may have bought you a tacky pair
of bell bottoms and we could have
matched in the seventies. I may have
asked you on a date to make our
own Tie Dye t-shirts and gifted you
a purple lava lamp in the sixties. I may
have met you at the park to Hula Hoop
and we could have laughed at my
mother’s sad attempt at a Gelatin Mold
in the fifties. I may have driven a Jeep
on our way to a movie theater and gave
you a Frisbee for your dog in the fourties.
I may have read comics about Batman
and Superman while sitting close together
on the couch in the thirties. I may have
listened to live Jazz music with you in the
twenties. If I was born in those time frames,
I would have done exactly that, but instead 
I was born now. I’m going to take you on
a date to the local National Parks and
then we’ll laugh about the old trends.

Respect – another name for fear. 

What did you expect?

There’s nothing left to say here.

But you should know-

That I don’t care.

If you want disrespect-

You can find it here.

there are two narrow
roads to infinity, yet
dread not, they draw the same toll;
a final choosing.

To only do, or do not. 

Two deer littered the interstate:
one northbound,
one southbound,
both dead and decaying

In another life,
I know I am their murderer

Rural
When I say it, it sounds
like a bunch of Rs with an L 
slapped on at the end.

Rural
the Chaplin River I waded in,
once threw a crawdad during a fight
then ran away because I was afraid…
of the crawdad.

Rural 
my aunt’s house in Tennessee,
2 miles off the paved road
you can see forever there,
but never a neighbor

Rural
y’all and bless your heart,
neighbors you know,
quiet nights on the porch swing

Rural
a million stars shining in the night sky,
the quiet croaking of frogs in the crick,
the susurrus of leaves in the wind

Rural
where you find all the things
you miss in the city