…It, this thing, had so much promise such newness. It tasted like wind, like cool water, I felt it land on me like sun rays.
Category: Prose and Poetry
Loving someone is both sacred and vile. Vile because it, the thing we cannot name, becomes something that binds us in light and darkness; surely will grow or change while it creeps into some dark, rusty, abandoned place, through circumstance, non-believing, or some other form of organic drizzling. Like a remnant memory from one of…
Blackness as Sunrise, Slurps, and Love.
I write about my blackness as a meditative practice. A means of survival and celebration. To bring the foundational elements of myself, up and out, like water from a lawn sprinkler. A blackness that disappears if you try to possess it, one that sits on your window sill like a quizzical sparrow. A blackness that…
Being Loved In The Cleansing Light of Blackness
“One can never forget the feeling of being loved by one’s folks, the looks of care and wonder.”
This seems to me like the season of corrosion. Where all we know and what we thought we wanted to know, seeps next to us, first as light and then as this entity that we discover as corrosive. Corrosive elements are dangerous things, they burn, they twist, they smoke, and then at times, burst into flames….