Because We Don’t Have Each Other

I don’t 

want to stand out

because I’m black

but I want to belong

in color

I don’t know what it means

to me

to be a coal

fractal, soul

full of sunlight

fists in air, but

it’s too much pressure

to be the only gate you have

into these prism-prisons

you call ethnicities

I guess it’s fair

brown skin, and untamable hair

not a magnet for moisture

but I can bear it

the weight of

misunderstanding falls on

all who wish to take



Black is hungry

solitude gives no solace

In our slumber we

call out for the dark side

of the moon – and deep

berries, Miles Davis, Nina Simone

to bury in our bellies and

Roll out of bed

still free

But empty

I don’t

want to stand in

your way of painting

your face but, it’s your big

pink eraser

I fear, I’ve lost

touch with 

the culture

my ancestors - part

blue-collars, black-necks,

white-teeth, red-flecks,

soft heart, loud rhyme,

join the army, the navy, or do




To take up space is

it really enough

How many sides are

there in this war

with the past; I’m tired of

protest songs, they keep

telling me what to do

Poem a day drafts 39-46 (Portraits 1-7)

Human’s gate to heaven

sits atop carved trunk

with elephantine snouts seeking

joy stick retribution  a sombre moment

with three of your kin  64 pixels

on your back  carry a heavy

load up the ammunition 

with a warm face  a trace of

gun powder promise in the air

you salivate an explosive

toggling your mind

reflecting expectations

Sound & Light

Round is a polite shape

to learn  to recite  to birth


See  de

mons escape  Allow

heaven to read them


a needlepoint  penning 

the bible  like

a fractured voice  learning

to use language

The Unemployed

craftsman  sportsman

bashed by how you are

remembered  empty  calories

consumed by sensual appetite

ah c’était bon  mon amour

ton allure sur le sol  l’étage 

recite to me your promise

to not keep a promise

whilst you drip your

water color lust

atop your bed 

I can’t stop seeing





in the mirror




All manner of




molecular bricks  laying

ashen upon table

sous le sable qui en voie

harkenings of the OUCH

Spiney leaves  me behind

in the store bought soil

digging around for  whored

out oil y skin  akin & atune

FINELY tuned whisker plants

revealing  beneath shade 

I am not the maid

February births gusts of color

An orchestra hangs

from wires

twelve sheets

none as primary as 

the last wind blown


Can you see March

Can you remember the

future Aprils & Mays

Our beasts tied to strings riding 

the joy  buoyant  billows

I can hold (the world)

your love  in loafs  I

can crunch the eccentricity &

idiosyncronisity  A symphony of

crackle  Can you believe we’ve

been baking for nearly 12 months

I am proud of the folding  I adore 

each ingredient  gradient  torchlit

fluttering cocoon  vespertine surprise

If I could  I would  & since I will

HOLD STILL  fast  Let me trickle

my love across  your mantle  crust