i don’t know a woman who doesn’t have a story. i don’t know a girl who hasn’t had to be brave. i don’t get how anyone is surprised by the pervasiveness of sexual harassment and sexual assault. the idea that so many women and individuals who identify as femme have to once again ‘out’ themselves in order to bring this issue to light, astounds me. it’s time we stop pretending we don’t know this is happening. it’s time we stop faking the funk. it’s time we all say no more. enough. this isn’t the culture we want our children to inherent. this isn’t the culture we want to live in. this isn’t who we are. unless of course, it is.
others can’t hear the way ice cream sounds or taste the flutter of a bird’s wing stirring fall leaves
i lost myself that day in those turns and loved myself along the way as i found myself at a pace where i was more
$29,000 in the hole. $3 balance. faith is tested in times such as these. or solidified.
finally quiet i’d watch sunset outside my kitchen window. cold beer and pen posed over an open journal. incomplete poems littered every page.
picking up strays
pastime reserved for canines
a loyalty offered but
an incomplete seduces and
plays on already overly stretched emotions.
what would i do without these shadows to guide me, walk with me, talk with me, hold me in place? i have no idea but imagine it would be a space without grace.
bacteria infections are
pregnancy scares aren’t
the only reason your
granma told you to beware!
a new creation