I want to write a poem that moves with the cadence and crescendo of an old Negro spiritual; I want to write a poem that reaches into the bowel of humanity in a vise like grip milking out compassion and tolerance; I want to write a poem that shares the test of walking through fire…
Tag: blogging
auto repair and the single mom
i was minding my own business going about the errands and excitement of a regular saturday full of karate classes and community service when suddenly my steering wheel started to creak and my wheels started to moan. i immediately thought to myself, ‘ain’t nobody got time for that.’ but the more i drove the more…
a writer comes of age
…it means you are a slave to the words bursting forth from your mind… 7 years old / what do you want to be when you grow up, he asked me. a writer, i answered. 8 years old / i sit for hours my legs cross eagle and numb, pencil in hand diligently scribbling on…
fearfree living 