Tree||Tower

Every day I walk by,mind seemingly high,only really closed and tight,caught anxiously going rightright round and round.Circling a pool void of light,no matter my might,trapped in a panopticonof my psyche.Three walls enclosed,the fourth open to let insickly rays of thoughts from my jailer.He that I cannot see,only suspect in whispers of dreams,that present he may be, possibly,existing…conceivably.The possibility alone deterring mefrom reaching and expanding out,releasing the bars and walls captivating

Viśuddha

There exists a whirling vortex,found along a stem whose sole aspirationis to allow communication.This spiral extends the physical purposeinto a multi-dimensional function. Speak. Contact the world outside self,invite it into conversation.See, smell, hear, taste, touch; exchange these transmissions.A quantum presencecausing transformation by witnessing,attending this existence…this continuation.Grasping agency,generating revolution with process,deliberately conceiving and constructing reality. Utter yourself into being. Every syllable…becoming…

Lanmou Zansèt

My Ancestors speak to me in a tongue so familiar,and unfathomable.In the vivid wisps of Dreams, they dance.A fluid hieroglyphic dissertation,knowledge passed down through the ages,crafting me, the inheritor.In ethereal moments before the Dawn, they sing.Melodies of love and affection,claiming as their own,refrains declaring me successor.In the rays of the Sun, they play.Resounding the life-rhythm through Light,calling to me with each rising day,leading me to a path lit bright. I

Majik City

A gentle breeze,so slight as it winds its weave,between the sounds of the city.Birds chirp and singwhile cars and trucks let their metal ring.A deep green pervades this luscious land,beneath cyan hue,brushed with white by an unknown hand.This city is not tall, but it is vast.Stretching from a deep blue seato a green ocean of sawgrass.

Pasyans

If one were to sit before a flowerwaiting for it to bloom,most would meet with inner furor.For patience is measured in stages: epochs and eons.Perception of truth releases the space,expelling the expanse,to be saturated with silence and intention,multiplied by function and intuition,the sum of the product and equation of awareness and individuation.

Nasyon Kongo

The man from Kongo told me that long ago his mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s Mother was taken. Ripped away, to be sailed away, and sold away to Ayiti. The pride in his eyes in saying, in stating, that HE KNOWS. I said HE KNOWS. Mwen di w li konnen! That he has fanmi in Ayiti. That pride, matched the tears welling up in mine eyes. For bondage and time, distance

Procrastinated Chassis

I’ve got a silver truck, rusted the driver’s side window, busted Parked under a coconut tree in a frigid Florida breeze. Cigarette butts in the bed weeds growing through the engine block. Four by four never climbed a mountain, dead headlights staring at the foot hills. The coconuts never grow, untouched by warm summer sun. In the driveway two Mercedes, white one with cracked windshield, the SUV creaking with age

No Light for the Prism

Reccuring thoughts of glory when the reality is much more mundane, ordinary Mondays of songs unsung, poems unwritten. A light shines for many, that cannot or will not place the gem to the beam and share the stream of one moment in a river of eternity. Lost in the visions of others, we cannot face the mirror. For the gleam in our eyes betrays the terror of our lives, fear

4 Counts to the Ledge

Roots brew, bones, and blues. Black Queen in white dress, Six-strings in a leather jacket. Four strings layin’ it down, right by the four beat settin’ the count. Murphy arranged the law, a twilight lockstep. Murphy’s son interpreted the law, revisiting implications of different vantage points. Musically structural thoughts leading to private manifestos of intention, retention, of self. Civil disobedience to social entanglements, internal conflictions with external contraptions. Circles of

Moments

The places through which we walk in our lives leave an indelible mark on our souls. Our very existence is made up of places we’ve been, the people in the those places and the feelings they induce within. Deep moments of silence when spirits sing of spirals of suns long gone and yet to come. Reverberations of bones till carrying the beating tattoo of life. Momentary eternity in the seconds

Elevated on the Metro

Neon green t-shirt and relaxed hair, She leads three beautiful Black girls, All hands linked as she sets them in seats On the metro. Face neutral, her task serious, caring for them. Matching black leotard dresses, Braids with clear beads, Dance class perhaps? She leans over, pinches a nose, smiles And my whole world lights up, Lightens, my soul momentarily floating, Free of the weight of my thoughts. Coconut Grove.

Shades of Dichotomy

Saw young white hispano not quite anglo, Wu-tang tank top in The Fresh Market, Lookin’ for organic pork chops. My visceral reaction to oppositional visual feedback Had me taken aback, shifting to righteous frequency At flagrant audacity and shameless apropriation Of counter-culturally rebellious Afro-Activity. Yet, I was there to see him in his part While purchasing tea, turmeric, and coconut oil For balance, knees, and dreadlocs At the same white

Two Women Conversing On The Bus

I watched two women, Blond and brunette, Converse. Through scratched and beaten plastic I watched them weave magic with their hands, Waving words into being, Pulling them from the air silently While the bus jostled them noisily. Phalangic dissertations, Stylisticly lexical differences Marked by sharp fingers, Syntactical personality shifts With flowing wrists. Blonde reached out, Stamping her words with emotion. Brunette leaned, Casually carving logos from ether. Filled with smiles,

Binary

It’s all 0s and 1s. The meeting place of land sea give both definition by opposition just as death gives meaning to life by delineating the boundary of life. Imagine the waters on this planet before life. Moving only with the sway of a planetary dance. Deep in the bosom of Terra, something blinked and came to be, the lifeless waters around it a clear juxtaposition to what it was.