Poetry

There in a cage wordless then whispering in the basement where married theological students lived down where they kept spare chairs and baby carriages they lay down on smuggled blankets and stripped each other She pulled her shuddering into her mouth and she was afraid It had never happened before that opening except alone She…

Ducks fly over the pond. They fly between notes. My father in his uniform. Stars and stripes. Green like cricket grass. His hat lined. A shower curtain. In the evenings he'd come home his face rough. Stars. Rougher than memory. Pond mist. Like the geese landing on the pond. The woman a circle we come…

A small knot of conspirators, six oil drops, livid blues and blush, dabbed into a huddle of boots and cloaks and plumes the size of an unguessed scruple under the balustrade— a detail near the lagoon. So many bridges built over that water which flows forward into the moment flourishing its telltale signature at who's…

Our cock is boiling in a saucepan almost ready to become you and you ask those words into our raft bed Fuck me Please sweetheart Give it to me Please Let me O fuck O your wet cunt sweet Push it in my face Jesus Let me swallow you Take my pussy Suck O Suck…

Your eyes like a lake on a windy day. They wouldn't stay still. Your mouth like the mountains behind. I wanted to kiss that day, so soft. Your breath came louder and louder. We sailed. You held me. Watched my brown shoulder. We both were afraid. I kept pushing inside you. It began to rain….

A woman adorned stands out in a crowd of otherwise Camouflaged women, and takes from her shelf all manner Of potions and powers, the oils and slick pots of colors That hold electricity and confusion of mimicry That test the ties that bind deception to reality A woman in sundappled skin can mislead with mad…

Although it stands between the kidnappers and me There's the baby's cry again the third time this long night Although it stands between me and the kidnappers and testifies There the lights are out They're all finally asleep And testifies to what I suppose I must call my freedom I don't like to look on…

We pulled into her driveway, kissed TV-style: no tongues. Oh, twice or so I dumped my tongue against her clenched teeth. No go. She pulled away, curled a loose strand of hair behind her ear and patted it. Then nervously she asked, “At your house when you spill your milk or something, does your mom…

To his own people, Robinson became a modern John Henry who instead of driving steel, laid down iron taps. —from Jazz Dance hip hop ain't no hula hoop backs of legs out front      electric boogie      knock-kneed bird of the Zulu nation           chicken pecking hip hopping out of devastated lots out of Crenshaw Heights and Watts…