1/30 2016


The garden is nearly full  

Friday in LA

Always waiting for a friend to joint the meal

We will hardly be satisfied 

LA is beautifully disappointing that way

We all rush around in our cool looking outfits 

Dreadfully uncomfortable 

And overwhelmingly insecure 

But we manufacture cool

Sell it on the big screen and even we buy tickets to the movie 


Free write

I cannot sleep. I am thinking of you and the ocean you are in front of. How I am not with you. How I never will be. Again. I never told you that I heard God tell me you were mine. From that moment forward, I surrendered to that we were a thing to the most high. that we were stupid and young and full of hurt over past love. You are not as young as I thought. Not as young as you said. And there are always lies. Some, not intentional but there are always lies. The ones we tell ourselves are the most harmful because there is no protection against that.

I'm happy. Truly, but that doesn't mean I don't miss what I thought we had. You are as fucked up as they come. A beautiful mess. So magnificent from a distance but the closer anyone gets the more you unravel. The more you come undone. I always thought we would keep saving each other. Thought we'd make a life of coming to each other's rescue. Make a life out of each other's tattered heart. You never knew how to do long term. Never knew what to do with me. And that's what they all come to. All say it at some point. As if admitting it after the failure counts. 

I don't want to have a filter anymore. My writing used to be the place I could get free, then people started listening and naming me things I never said I wanted to be. And yeah, that fucks with the art. Starts to make you second guess and over think. What used to be effortless require a more labored process and I'm not with it. I've learned a lot but I'm not with it. So I'm starting over. I'm going back to only writing for me. This will be where I get free.  

Our love

You know our love is revolutionary
Two undead black things in love
Our hand holding
Kiss on neck
This love we make
Makes us stronger
Makes us unkillable
You know they killing us
In plain sight
Without reason
Killing us, for real.

After the church shooting

I wrote a letter to my love today 
Because I don't know what it will bring
Don't know if amidst his hallelujah a bullet will find him
If his tail light is out, he might be detained 
Or beaten or murdered by the law meant to protect him

I write letters to black man that I love a lot lately 
Tell them all the things: How I will miss them 
What I love most about them 
Because you never know what tomorrow may bring

My eyes don't cry anymore 
My heart can no further be broken 
I am mourning but praying 
Praying a prayer I should not need 
Praying for safety and protection 
Praying for God to have mercy on our souls 
We so evil 
So defiant 
So disposable, it seems 
And maybe I know nothing but of love and poetry and survival
Maybe I'm a dreamer but maybe we all need be 

I hope these poems find their way into the hearts of those made of hate 
Made of rage and hopelessness 
There are no bullets that can kill the sprit 
Can't kill soul but you keep trying
Reload yet again we raise 
We so beautiful. 

30/30 day 2



My beloved 


Last night I cried on the floor of a church 

Cried, next to you 

These are the things I've prayed about


There I was

Connected to your Jesus by proximity 

Calling His name in song 

His name, familiar 

I have always loved Him

The way I love 

In secret. 


Last night you cried 

On the floor of a church 

Cried, next to me 

These are the things I've prayed for 


There you were connected to Jesus 

Calling his name in song 

His name, Beloved 

You have always loved him 

The way you love 

In the silent moments


Last night I cried on the floor of a church 

Holding the hand of my beloved 

My heart cried out Thank You, Jesus.