Why Even Ask?

Love Poetry, Poetry

I could’ve told you
the same way Al Green does.

I could’ve said it
the way other couples do.
You know
looking deep
into your eyes and shit.

I could’ve even told you
the way greeting cards love cliché
but I decided to tell you
by washing the dishes and doing the laundry.

It was easier that way.

The End of the World: December 31, 1999


Ocotillo flames licked my face
leaving dried saliva and tribal tattoos
in the form of coffins and nails.
Ashes floated amongst butterflies
and I flied
dancing on embers
mixing stardust
with cherry-flavored Kool-Aid.
It became the drink of the decade
and raver kids enjoyed
the orange glow of my light sticks.
It was the new Burning Man.

We tripped on people
worrying about Y2K,
buying tent supplies and flash lights.
I laughed in the aisles of Target
watching middle-aged white women
yearning for my colored touch.
They wanted me to paint their
linen canvas skins
with my obscenities.
I partook in their laughter,
nervous and wild.

We had a good time, my friends.
We had a good time indeed.



Writin’, it’s what we do.

We splurge on similes
and metaphors, mix
them with Ju Ju Bees
and Gummi Worms.

Attach jagged adjectives
to razor blades, gun
shrapnel, and needle pins.

We run over pronouns with BF Goodrich
tires and smear them
across gravel and pavement.

We take nouns and drown
them in marmalade
and molasses, spreading them
on 100% Whole Wheat Roman Meal bread.

We consume them.

Every phoneme. Every
letter. We digest
what we eat and
use the calories to make love
to the world. We traverse
across the Vizcayino and Sierra Madre
getting prepositions stuck to our pant legs
but that’s okay.

We’re spreading the seed.

La madrugada

Love Poetry, Poetry

El perfume de tu
piel manchó mis sabanas
ayer. Te fuiste
cuando mi zenzontle
te cantó. Al amanecer solo
encontré un hilo de tu
vestido que rompí.

Jumped Off Into the Sea of Sand

Hip-Hop and Rap, Poetry, Unorthodox Poetry

(for Ms. Badu)

while sailing a boat
long since past the river
feet first
I submerged into thin granules
thickly compacted

ow, a piece of glass
cut me. Did you
get that, did you?

Slowly with quickness
the sand engulfed
my fallen body, racing to the bottom
little-sliding pre-fragments
of glass slip into place
waiting to cover me.

Why panic?
Panicking forces it down
your throat quicker.

The sand so soft.
A warm feeling.
Finally embraced forever.
The weight doesn’t bother me.
And the darkness is pleasing.

Welcome to the hole.

In a video, a beautiful black
woman walks wondering where
to go. On her head
she wears a cocoon made
of paper maché and spit wads
waiting to crack open, free ideas,
dreams along with nightmares.
She seeks healing.

Maybe when she returns
to her hole in the sand
I’ll meet her.

Give me time to wade
through waters that embrace me.

Above is the music video that inspired the preceding poem. Enjoy the soulful sounds of Ms. Erykah Badu.

It’s Overpowering

Love Poetry, Poetry

Room temperature too much
you casually took off
your sweater, exposed your skin
and a surge of lust
overtook me.
I won’t lie.

Soft, smooth.
Your hair pulled back.
So soft, so smooth.

Entranced by your Coppertone
skin tone and I
couldn’t stop thinking…
so soft, so smooth.

I’d explore you.
Find the deepness of your depth.
Define your soul.
Explore the valleys
that your hills create.

Allow me to travel
along the curves of your body.

Explore the intimacy of your self.
Explore us.
You, me

I felt lust, girl.
I won’t lie.