Winter seems like an endless calm.

When the cold surrounds us,

and the darkness makes the streets disappear,

the world’s turning seems to slow down.

You can see footprints start and footprints

stop,

leading somewhere,

going nowhere.

I sit there, in my own little world.

The fountain flows like a babbling brook as I inhale deeply.

 I’m alone with my thoughts, and nothing else.

Just me, I sit on a smooth rock in the middle of the lake.

The soft murmur of kids

At the sparkling lake,

from the early morning sunrise.

With boats at high speed ,

with skiers behind them.

From the bright early mornings,

to the beautiful horizon of the evening.

The lake is an emotion

that sparks smiles all around.

The appeal of the beach is different

For everyone who visits.

Some venture deep into the water,

Their heads bobbing above and below the surface

Of the bittersweet saltwater.

Perhaps they crave adventure,

Letting the waves envelope their bodies,

I am a minor

I have the same rights of

A Black man 200 years ago

A Woman 100 years ago

They say we are not smart enough

They say we are not good enough

They say we are not old enough

I say I am

When will I have rights?

Walking step by step to a place unknown,

people look past me like I’m a monster,

part of the disowned.

My heart is lost and I’m brought to a shadow of blue,

cheeks stained with tears,

a feeling that is far from new.

By the time the night is over,

I’m from chalky hair,

Here, pretty hair and curls,

I’m from leotards and spandex,

Here, pretty tops and jean shorts,

Where I’m from, new skills

Here, 9 x 24

I’m from, rug burns and big bruises,

Here, paper cuts

i am your (empty

dead-eyed cashier, mechanically

ringing up your nachos and popcorn;

have a great day!



weekend plans and giggling friends,

i am Maslow’s slave

face blur past, i ring up your purchase

Although I have never been,

I can smell the condensed aroma

of fresh bread in the bakery,

occupying its place in the noses of bypassers.

Although I have never been,

I can distinguish between the flavor

of black and green olives,

Laughter chirps through my ears

A forever perfect

Harmony

In this imperfect world

Sunshine frames the chalk lines

Every colorful streak

A reflection of my friends

A reflection of myself

Moving boxes carefully across the street,

Looking both ways

before pushing a small cart of toys across the street.

Today we were moving,

But it was not a long drive to our new house,

It was a simple walk across the street.

Woman.

Care-taker, life-giver,

nurturer, chef, doormat.

Woman.

Raised to believe my gender put

me on the bottom.

I am to please, not to be pleased.

I am the inferior, the weak, the

soft, the submissive.

sing in me, O Muse, the plight of the second generation american;

she is a girl with brown eyes and skin and hair,

with $300 Beats that match her silk headscarf affair.

she brings “exotic” food to school,

and cringes when lentils get on her skirt of tulle.

Mental Silence

Physical Noise

“Click Clack Clickity Clackity Click Click Clack”

The Blue Switch Thermaltake Poseidon Z Mechanical Keyboard speaks a special language to me

A language that is only understood by a certain herd of people

Headphones cradling my ears

I enter a world

Where electronic pictures and sounds

Are ever present

I take a seat

At the Twitter home page

Where people project themselves to me

Competing for my attention

I don’t want to be left out

The curtain rises,

anxiety and nervousness,

but the nerves vanish.

The lights hit me,

a warm and incomparable sensation.

Lines once memorized,

forgotten.

Few moments of panic are gone,

it’s just me and the music.

home can be anywhere with a song

a constant melody

an extravagant sound

warmth without sun

cold without ice

feel anyway you’d like

she walks

head bent against the cold

and the weight of grief

shoving her down

A thousand stark crosses

Plotted on a green hill

Once moving a thousand miles an hour

Now stand still.

At life’s bloody terminus

We are told they are the purest of all of us

The rolling front blending together

Police tape lines the yard

I walk past

Baby blue house in cookie-cutter neighborhood

I look down and it says welcome

I quickly step in and close the door

so the camera flashes don’t glimpse inside

Even if the school desks

Are perfectly aligned

And the chairs evenly spaced

And the walls precisely decorated

And the white boards

Sparkling white,

This is not my place.

The smile I wear is fake.

Constantly fighting to escape your

embrace,

The proof of my struggles remains on

my face.

Through tears in the dark I turn over

to see-

A stranger, a monster, lying next to me

We caught her,

Slowly dying,

Submerged in water,

Alone and crying,

Slowly dying,

As she falls,

Alone and crying.

The sinner crawls.

As she falls,

I heard the voice,

The sinner crawls,

showers are often taken for granted

a comfort for the morning, afternoon, late night, whenever

consistently enveloping you in that same warm blanket

always at that perfect angle

so you never have to put in unnecessary effort

Everyone thinks I am super happy

But I’m not...

Everyone thinks I just don’t have any problems

But I do...

Everyone thinks I am just happy with myself

But I’m not...

Everyone thinks that I can just make everything in my life okay

I hear walkie talkies – kusssshhhhh.

People talking, “Blah, blah, blah, bleep.”

I hear toilets flush.

Basketballs bounce and swoosh.

This place is full of it: empty. 

The twisted metal trees

Rise up from the heap

Magpies hop about

The glittering savannah

And crows harass the mice

Nesting in the chewed

Leather seat

Of a Volkswagen

A scruffy dog

Stalks the crows

Since the first breath of life,

one adventure to the next,

I can only reflect back in fondness

to the scattered pieces of my heart.

This here is real.

There are no stories

about happy homes and whole hearts

where we come from.

No fancy cars.

We got no big houses but big dreams.

This is crack fiends at midnight,

babies crying, sleeping on wooden floors.

The losses we experience

The victories we achieve…

They become intertwined

With the places we inhabit

As we go about our lives.

Meaning and memory tie us to these places

So that even when we leave somewhere,