Selected poems
Found poem (click image to enlarge)
*
Did you see the news today? Law failed love. Let love be law.
Did you see the news today? Hospitality failed love. Let love be hospitality.
Did you see the news today? Justice failed love. Let love be justice.
Did you see?
*
Rest. Lie back. Dwell in your own skin. Made by Me and belonging to Me. Nothing and no one can take that away. What I make, I see, and say that it is good. Nothing knows its purpose but I know its Purpose. Nothing knows its place but I know its Place. Nothing knows itself but I know its Self. You are as you were made to be — no more or less than that. No less Mine for that. Rest. Lie back. Dwell in your own skin.
*
inside us the dead inside us the dead beckon on, beckon on witnessing, waiting, whispering: 'what will you do?' ... will you do? 'what will you do?' ... will you do? 'you are the change you have been waiting for'
treading water bus, train, work, train, bus bus, train, work, train, bus
*
You are a God of small things.
Snapped shoe laces, the sticking utensil drawer
Outreaching arm over the cold side of the bed
Watching the bus you're meant to be on go by
(and the one after that)
Siren chaser, conflict avoider, the job I don't want to go to much today
What I needed to bring and forgot,
What I wanted to say but didn't
(the stupid thing I say instead)
You — in my fears, real or imagined
You — my consolation and my comfort
You — there always in all things
You
*
Intersectionality lays along our skin; our darkest marks, our deepest wounds. Your gaze penetrating exposes blood first, then bone. If you want to fight on three fronts at once, you might expect a rout but there's another bout in me. I'm not on my knees yet, still here to be a threat to your safe way of life. Your fairytale end, you can't see is pretend It's roots are buried in blood and bone. Our blood. Our bones. Where you thrive, you deprive — others lives and future. Your roots are buried in blood and bone. Our blood, our bones. Our blood, our bones.
*
the tray of
daffodil bulbs from the dumpster
was mostly empty
but imagine
some day
at the tip
messy, smelly, unwanted things
the green shoots first
then golden trumpeting glory
in an unlikely place
*
the suns warmth
a benediction on my skin
the birds sing
Amazing Grace to