Naps in the grass

The Sun is my blanket

Underneath the sheet of the breeze.

Basketball court sings

A rhythmic lullaby of

Crossovers, trash talk, and lay ups.

I allowed the grass to swallow my toes

In exchange, the grass allowed my locs to mingle with the ants.

Little caterpillar, in search of new

joins me on my cot for a spell.

Then, inches off to conte...

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Lobo’s Got a New Ride

Sirens howl in the December morning frosty air the pale haze of cold morning dew. The coffee pot drips the house back into life out of the deep winter slumber. What a good time to sleep she heard him say, but she wasn’t sure if it was she who said it first. The burst came later upon the reflections of a future not yet arrived, a direction she can’t see. She thinks it will ...

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Unveilings 18: 7-12

Daytime, nighttime, all the time is a time to be, to be seen, to care to be. To leave oneself inside oneself and never deny yourself that being. Seeing is believing, they say, but I can’t see a good reason to believe the good is good anymore. Moments before the fall, they say, a deliverance unto man, they say. But hey who are we to know what’s best for ourselves, our welfare...

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