A Fashioned Statement


We acquaint ourselves with asphalt, our ashy knees
and skin the thirsty dreams of the Sahara,

our ripped jeans
not so much the fashion statement of a causeless

but a fashioned statement, the piety of never

Continue reading A Fashioned Statement



Trayvon Martin_Thug Is the New Nigger.JPG
Photograph by David Shankbone

A thug parts the ways at night,
the purses drawn near, the clook clook

of locking doors, the wary whites
of eyes, and you could all but see
the thoughts undulating

through the fog of their myopia.
What makes a thug

boils down to genetics, the natural coloring
of animal tissue, a curse, according to Alma, Continue reading Thug

Could You Fly?

Le Soleil, ou la Chute d’Ircare, Merry-Joseph Blondel (1781-1853)

Could you fly?
Without the rope

you are just a man, no Icarus

caressing the sunset, no wax

to melt, oblivious to height.
Could you fly?
I saw Damocles’ sword fall, once,

and a king lost his throne, Continue reading Could You Fly?

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