sometimes being awake feels
more like a dream
than being asleep
open eyes slowly awaken
to the insanity of our race
humanity
looking, we devour art;
words, images, songs and stories
of the
insatiable ache in every foot
and every drop of blood
that makes a home of this
celestial rock, suspended by
gravity whose strings are
pulled by holy fingers
that pry open seeking eyes
to unspeakable horrors
and indescribable ecstasies

the universe exists inside every chest
when new light is shed on tiny
truths, before unseen
they blossom into realities
unabashed and weighty

Cost benefit analysis

I'm the kind of woman
whose love only ever means more
than it seems, not less

When I peel off my clothes
letting them tumble to the floor
I'm also peeling off parts of
my skin, so you can admire
the depths buried beneath
when I wrap my legs around you
I wrap pieces of cardiac muscle
around you too, telling you
"don't disappear too soon, you
might take something with you"

It took me so many years to realize
this wasn't weakness, but strength
because lying on your back and
letting people sow seeds and falsehoods
inside of you is easy
but tearing yourself open so
sunlight can grow those seeds
into oak trees and beauty
is excruciating

When I stop for a moment
and dwell on how much you
take versus how much you offer
me, the kind of man you are
can never be enough for
the kind of woman I am

And since you're an accountant
here's a cost benefit analysis
from a poet
having a weed like you in my life
Is too costly to my flourishing
grove of trees
to let you keep dwelling there

You are vast enough
that the truth you know
can be equally as real
as the ache you feel
you can bear both
fire & ice
sustaining all elemental
states and stations

You are vast enough
to be utterly shattered
and completely whole
all at once
though the tension
seems to be tearing you apart
it's really stitching you back together

feminist rant

i can be demure, if it pleases me
barefoot, pregnant, made-up, if it pleases me
i can be sweet & polite, if it pleases me
i can double-check my sources,
laugh at myself, smile, dance,
kiss (with tongue or without)
cross my legs when i'm sitting
in a dress, yes, i'm capable
if it pleases me

but i will no longer do these things
to please anyone but myself
if i'm being the kind of woman
you prefer when you come around
i'm still doing it for me because
i don't feel like dealing with
your bullshit
if what i want happens to
coincide with what you want
congratulations!
but don't for one second think
that i'm bending for you
because the only people i
am willing to bend for, to break for
would never ask me to

Southern Blasphemy: part 1

Big hair & bigger gowns
wedding causing debt that drowns
brides with the frugal-est of minds
I'm not interested
in the kind of
stress a white dress may require

People will say I'm just bitter
and better think twice
but thinking twice is what
brought me to this conclusion

$20,000 is not an investment
worth making if it returns nothing
and lasts so few hours
Celebration is a spirit, not a price tag

But at the end of the day
I'd rather be alone
the rest of my life
than connected to
the wrong
human

People will say I'm just bitter
and better think twice
but thinking twice is what
brought me to this conclusion

Sunrise Poem

Her song rises from the depths
of darkness
light begins to
peek its gentle fingers
from the edges of
her holy lips
lavender beams grow warm
the sweet & tender
notes fly slow & mournful
towards the
horizon of her throat
emerging from her soul
the golden orb of sunlight
bursts into the morn

Dragoncita

There was a time
When leaning into you
And growing towards the sun
Were synonymous
But one day
I realized they'd become
Antonyms
And I had to walk away
Because I need the sun
More than I need you
Because I need to be me
More than I need you

7:13 a.m.

What's the point
Of being able to stay hard
To hold your shit together
For an extended period of time
If you don't know how to
Properly operate my clitoris?
If I wanted someone
To punch the fuck
Out of my cervix
I would have specified
That

Sonnet I

Version 1:
Purity my soul may now not find
Buried far beneath where I can reach
Whole memories fixed firm within my mind
Walls are forged from broken things I ache to breach
Them, yet how can I respire if mother would not teach
Me how to blink away despair of injured wings
Or mend the sighs, love-sick with each
Passing year, the reasons why I've ceased to sing

But mother I can't blame for everything
For my hungry eyes blindness may not claim
Nor may silence be the music that now rings
In my straining ears, there is not mystery
So deep as incarnate light that must learn to love to be

Version 2:
Purity his soul may now not find
Buried far beneath where he can reach
Whole memories fixed firm within his mind
Walls are forged from broken things he aches to breach
Them, yet how can he respire if mother would not teach
Him how to blink away despair of injured wings
Or mend the sighs, love-sick with each
Passing year, the reasons why he's ceased to sing

But mother he can't blame for everything
For his hungry eyes blindness may not claim
Nor may silence be the music that now rings
In his straining ears, there is not mystery
So deep as incarnate light that must learn to love to be

Make my thighs an altar to your hunger

My body the sacred training-ground of praise

The gods in me rise like the rivers of my desire

And you will learn to weep again, as a man should

9.24.16

Young woman,
Save your sighs for when you are old
For by then you will have built
The grace to bear them

10.6.16

I bury men inside of me
Covering them with my sand
X marking the spot
Surely this time I am a treasure

i give truth a body
but sometimes
i give lies a voice

do you know how hard it is
to be strong and soft
to be powerful and kind?
i see more of people
than they see of themselves
i give a home to orphaned
emotions that broken humans
place near the road in cardboard
boxes reading, " dn ǝpıs sıɥʇ "

do you know how hard it is
to devour injustice with your eyes
but not vomit endless rivers
of lava and fury
to carry delicate hearts made of
flower petals and silk
in the same hands that hold
back all deluge of despair
to not destroy the one
while restraining the other

do you know how hard it is
to carry the weakness of others
under your tongue
your mouth always pregnant
with ignorance trying to escape
your teeth the only cage that
keeps your rage from
eradicating those who need you
but are too proud to ask for help
and too blind to know to thank you

no, i don't think you do
you don't know how hard it is
to be a hurricane and a whisper
a tear and a caress
but if you did
i wouldn't have had to learn
that i am important

-inspired by the poet, rupi kaur, and the aggressive dumbass at work, but mostly rupi

well-meaning bullshit

now, daddy always told me

i’d go for a lot at the slave market and

he always meant it as a compliment and

i always took it as a compliment ‘cause

he didn’t know how to say,

“you’re sturdy, girl, and i love that about you.”

but one day i realized i had reason to take issue

so i took issue because some of my sisters

have mothers whose mothers

went for a lot at the slave market because

they were “sturdy girls” and

some white man loved that about them

I begin to lust for
other lips
To prove to myself I don't need him

Medicine Man

you said, "I'm so sorry I took that from you.

if only I had known you were a virgin"

boy, for so long I blamed myself for your dyslexia

you fixated your eyes, misreading the sanskrit writings on my skin

as you pressed in you waited for my moans

that came only in winces

no. I didn't come yet

no. I didn't come at all

but you asked me, "how good does it feel?"

more times than you asked, "darling, may I?"

you never called me darling, I would've liked that

but you liked that ass, making sure it felt so good

so you could feel you'd compensated me for your climax

virgin or not, a man wouldn't have touched me

my body, the sacred training-ground of his praise

not a cheap, backseat thrill, a medicine man remedy

satisfied only with offerings of blood and innocence

medicine man, you can't make penance to my body

by touching my body, that you hurt, asking me still,

"how good does it feel?" when I wanted to say,

"stop trying to earn your forgiveness,

it's already given."

you prove that the only part of you that's a man

thinks that hands can heal the open wounds you caused

I let you back in, giving you a chance to say,

"no. I cherish you." but somehow I knew

you still needed me to carry you

giving me a good time won't give back what you took

so why don't you take another look at what

you could've had, take a moment to be sad that even if

you wised up, no matter how much of me you

think you fill, you will never feel my trust again

rejected offerings

it is right to say
that my body is an altar
but it was built for praise
not for your penance
my moans are not meant
to carry away your guilt

paper airplane

when you send me your condolences on stationary
i'll unfold the creases of your sorry
& fly it back to you as a paper airplane
because I am not broken, I'm single
there is no way to rearrange the letters
in that word to spell "insufficient"
or "too much"

preferences

some

men see my skin and its pasty pigmentation

as proclamation of superiority to my sisters

whose varying shades of brown perfection

conceal passion and secret kisses that

no hands are ever worthy to discover

but to other men my skin is too pale

cause I can’t be white and a whale

but I’m not moby dick, and if your dick

has a problem with my beautiful

why don’t you stick that shit somewhere else

get your synonyms straight, boys

white does not equal better

big does not equal ugly

people say, “you can’t fault people for their preferences”

sure, but let’s ensure that preferences

don’t become prejudice

presenting perfect women with

impossible parameters

‘cause that is ugly

I am thick and proud and I am not

too full of flavor to be delicate

I’ve learned to love my ivory skin and I am not

a trophy to be won and placed on your mantle

thick

silent disdain slides from slick tongues

boys crafting insults they never needed to hurl

for i was already practiced in the

art of hating my body, always being

too much to have and to hold on

to; i searched for a knife that was good

for carving mangoes and skin

to slice the strength from my bones

carve the smooth from my curves

to be skinny like the skinny girls

seducing hungry eyes of the boys i grew up with

delicate, a flower, like my mother, my sister

but with each year my body betrayed me

my hips grew wider, my thighs more full

of earth & flesh, & i began to wonder

if God made me big so that my body

could bear my existence and

my frame contain my power

a crafted vessel of clay & pride

these hills & valleys were never made from dust

i am a mountain range covered in

stone & fire & earthquake

i am not too full of flavor to be delicate

i can always carry you

that does not mean i will

for the weight i carry must be worthy

of stone & fire & earthquake