An Old Flame in the Night

In the morning it is often winter,
though sometimes it is indeed still summer.
In the later nights as the moon climbs into the sky
to peer down at fools searching for stars,
I wonder if that means she is watching me.

So I threw a snowball at the moon,
but I threw it softly and it shattered on the ground.

Then I sent a smoke signal,
but she didn't catch the drift

So then I carried a bag with literally all of my feelings for her to her house
and there were better looking dudes than me,
and I assumed meant my dumb ass had been tricked



I returned to my hole to hide from the world,
One woman broke my heart,
Who would be interested in the shattered remains?

I forget that some women spend their whole lives cleaning up the messes of stupid young men.
I forget that often, they watch little boys age into morons,
and die old and alone with no one to argue with.



Hiding from the world will not cover up my own stupidity and shame
Shame rides my back like it has a saddle on it,
meaning I can only ever be looking down
and I'd love to be looking up for a change of pace.

I'd love a sun in the middle of the night.
But I guess that would just be a second moon.
My voice cracks, but my breath can carry a tune,

A not quite prayer, to a not quite goddess.
a dandelion in the wind, her daddy's wistful whistlin'

A mother's prayer with a wish within.


A flower so beautiful it haunted my dreams for a decade,
made me steal from gardens hoping to know the scent of spice and sugar
so I could have the words to tell her.
"Please, could I drink from your cup?
My throat is parched."

Going for Broke

My depression tastes like honey wine gone sour

My anxiety manifests and tells my hopes bonsoir

Do I yearn for a sunrise or is that just misogynoir?

Do I expect a surprise or is letting that go the real prize?

Am I one of the real guys? does she realize? Did I idealize?

I mean that a fair deal right? My shame for your eyes,

your lies for my mind, I swear to God I tried.

No one gonna see me cry, not again at least. 

I'm the dumbest fuck in the east

Leave myself for the last time so maybe I'll find peace

That's all I can do to tame the belly of my beast.

Compost, Carver and Charlottesville

They say that composting, the alchemy of turning dead plants to rich soil, came to America at Montecello.
They say that Thomas Jefferson was one of the first people in the country to use compost,
but let's be real, not once in that mans life did he personally dig into a pile of rotten vegetables to nurture the earth.
Thomas Jefferson had slaves to do it for him.
And so it would be more accurate to say that the men and women who were stolen from their homes and brought here against their will introduced compost to America.

So it makes sense that Dr. George Washington-Carver,
A man who was born into slavery,
Would be the true king of compost. 
Dr. Carver traveled across the country using plant cadavers to resurrect soil,
where cotton had left only dust.
The art of taking the old and the rotten and burying it so that new life can grow is one that I wish to grow more proficient in,
beginning with bringing every confederate statue steeped in the wrong side of history to the ground.

These rotten reminders that at one time men murdered men for the right to own people would surely decompose quickly and provide a dazzling array nutrients to any plants that managed to grow underneath the feet to those of us dancing on their shallow graves.

Then, we would move on to the non-confederate statues and memorials because believe it or not,
our history is filled with leaders who owned slaves,
denied humans the freedom about which they wrote so eloquently,
Washington, Jefferson, and others,
Men who we have deified and deemed beyond reproach will be approached and then encroached and eventually they too will lie underneath earth packed tight by dancing,

But we wont be done there.
Because even then when every symbol of hatred has been pulled from its pedestal,
We will look out upon an American landscape reduced to dust by racism,
and on that day we will remember the peanut growing scientist,
 we will follow in his footsteps through fallow lands,
and with the work of many hands,
maybe we will make America great for the very first time.

The Angled Mirror

 Every time I look at my reflection, 

I can swear the mirror's lying.

Sometimes it is the glass bent, 

making a funhouse of my smile,

Sometimes it is the way the mirror hangs,

tilted forward, so that when I look at it,

my reflection glowers down in disapproval.

On occasion the mirror is angled such,

that my reflection looks up to me.

I imagine this is how a child might see me, 

formidable, strong and tall.

If only I could see myself with my child's eyes,

If only I could see at all.

Talking

I just wanted you to know
That if ever you want to talk to me about your problems,
I'm here in whatever capacity you'd like

See my ma told me that the issue with men,
Is that we always want to fix things,
So I try not to focus on that,
Unless that's what you're looking for,
In which case I will be a rusted tool box,
And a a handful of hammered thumbs.
I will be blue prints and best laid plans,
I will be all the ambition of black coffee and early mornings,
I will be well worn work gloves, and muddy boots
I will be winters on the roof and summers in the yard
damnit I will show you that I can work hard,
As we work on repairing something.

But on the days where solutions aren't the goal,
When feelings simply need to be given a voice
Well I'm good there too.
I will be a night sky to yell into,
I will be trees waving in the wind of your voice
I will be cave where dark things that need no names can be left
I will be a well without bottom for secrets to be dropped into
I will be a back pocket that holds stuff,
Just so that your hands can clench into fists
And then open like flowers
I will be all ears and closed lips,
because you're feelings matter,
and I want to hear about them


And in those moments when you breathe hot anger
In those moments, with all of your words smoking,
When you have a mouthful of matchstick madness,
I will not be water.
I am a piss poor fire extinguisher,
When you spit sparks,
I will be gasoline and dynamite
I will be tinder and kindling
I will be a wind that whips up flames
In the face of our anger,
Problems will paint themselves in ashes
and call themselves solved.
ain't nobody trying to be in the way,
when our tempers get to flaring
when our eyes get to glaring
when our hands get to tearing
when our souls get to baring
because nobody wants to be burnt by that heat.


And on rare occasion,
When I think you're in the wrong,
I will call you on it.
I will go to the mat on behalf
of every idealistic bone in your body,
because sometimes people like us,
let our mouths run,
and sometimes passion
is just a little bit faster than compassion,
but you're usually good at that
So on the even more rare occasion,
When I am wrong,
I know you will show me how
And why
And maybe bring it up all the time
And that's fine
Because as long as we are talking,
I know that we are building something better,
as long as we are talking,
we can wear our hearts on our sleeves
we can whisper like the rustle of orange leaves
we can laugh like the kid who believes
in all the good things the world hasnt taken away yet.

To all the people I tried to love before learning to love myself.

 First of all, sorry, I'm clumsy at the best of times

and unbalanceed, more often than not

I may have fallen for you, fallen towards you

fallen on you, or even fallen in front of you

I fall down often, and land hard. 

Eventually, I stopped getting back up.

I was content to sit and lean against the legs of my betters,

for who could fall for that which has already stumbled tumbled and become broken?

Certainly not me. 

But there are places on the ground here,

 as soft as chamomile and warm with the light of an absent sun

I yearn for the early days of love, where I felt more loved than hurt

I yearn for a time when I was ready to swim with strangers and come up

gasping for air and finding none amidst my own laughter.

GOD

 Throw snowballs at the mf some times

youll never hit him

but 

you might wake him up