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Subject to Interpretation
I updated my quote today on the right side of my blog, which I try to do every week. The quote is: I used to love this quote because it explained how I felt when I finished reading a book that I...
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Self Doubt
My biggest fault is my doubt. I get inside my head too much. I over analyze and scare myself away from trying. I knew I needed to address this issue, so I wrote about it. A poem written from the...
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What’s In a Name?
Dudley Randall’s poem “An Answer to Lerone Bennett’s Questionnaire on a Name for Black Americans” struck a cord in me. As a writer, I believe in the power of words. Sometimes, just maybe, I give them...
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Phil Robertson (Duck Dynasty) Controversy: You may not agree with what he...
I usually dismiss all celebrate gossip for what it is – worthless. However, my curiosity was peaked when I read about Phil Robertson being banned from Duck Dynasty by A&E because of his...
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What the Lonely Say
I am no prophet – and here’s no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. – T.S. Eliot...
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My little struggles
It is a wonder what missing someone will do to you rob time of its value drown the days in silence the stillness of your home becomes an ache a tremble in your survival I broke a plate today just to...
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On The Ways We Define Ourselves
“From the Schooner Flight” by Derek Walcott There are moments that define you. Moments that come across you like headlights to a deer. When I am lucky, I have these moments when I read; coming...
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“Dear Mrs. Thompson”
“Dear, dear, dear sweet woman, I feel like we are family now I say this only cause I love you Dear you, I fuck your husband twice a week he pays me he is lying… Dear Kate, he called me your name...
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Subtle
I know the color of hurt the smell of it a charred bark peeled away from the root it was the color of leaving the rose hue of his cheeks when he finally noticed the ripe feeling of solidarity in a home...
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Bury them
I find in this shadow of my life I am surrounded by women Women whose names I wish to carve into my saddle So that I might not forget their stories Stories which I seek to weld inside of myself She...
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The Unknowing
There is blood in the windowsill where fingertips knelt We discuss the finer differences between being alone and loneliness I cannot recognize the fever of forgiveness to taste its temperature it is...
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The delicate fallacy of female
She is the kind of woman who reads a bible poolside with a beer in her hand. Bookmarked with a five dollar bill. The affirmation of her own sin woven between the delicate nods of her head. She snorts...
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The Human Condition
When I think of the good stuff I think of him. I listened to his voice and it felt like a stranger had called. A stranger I had known my whole life. A stranger that I missed, but I didn’t know how...
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My Cup Runneth Over
In an instant I knew he was not speaking of her. Of knowing her. Of knowing me. He’s speaking of hurt. To know the color of it. The smell of it. How hurt is universal and immeasurable. How it fits...
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Book Review: The Mare
By Mary Gaitskill Synopsis: An 11-year old underprivileged Dominican girl, Velvet Vargas, from Brooklyn, New York (Crown Heights) joins a program called the Fresh Air Fund, which allows...
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