Install this theme

Posts tagged: love

By The Time This Reaches You (as appears in A Detroit Anthology by Rustbelt Chic Press)


I love you but by the time this reaches your ears

it will be too late

I will be headed back

within the mouth of the beast.


In my hometown

2 men aged 16-25 are murdered

each week, which means men my age

have asphalt graves dug by trucks

made in the ghost factories of our homes.


We are cracked futures,

buried in abundance

as if something is supposed to grow there.

Our lovers forget our names like subtotaled receipts.

After we fill up the garbage cans

we are heaped on top of one another,

like tables overflowing with the dishes of deaths breakfast.


By the time this reaches your ears

I will be cursed in betrayal.

I’m ripping down the wallpaper of my heart as we speak,

dragging an ax along carpets where I once laid in love.


I’ve replaced all the doors with windows.

I’ve become more open but I’m letting less people in.

My ventricles are wrecking balls.

My arteries are arson art exhibits.


Little boys and girls have pistols for mouths.

They all have similar targets and I’ve slowly begun

to grow a large red dot on my chest.

There is an orange circle around that,

and a yellow halo around that.

Every time I try to talk to them I see their tongues twitching.


I tell rooms full of strangers

things I don’t tell my best friends.

Those who I see an oasis in desert me.

There are vultures and hyenas that have long circled my failures,

and I fear I will disappear searching for you.


Your attention is worth more to me

than the attention of millions.

I don’t know the depth of your damaged heart

but mine has been broken

into small enough pieces across Detroit

that it will fit in and fix it.

I’ve tried to repair my soul with a hammer

for so long that I know how impossible it is.

I face myself in the mirror knowing that I

have loved bricks that think they are wrenches.

They will have wrecked more than they repair.


If you told me to swallow gasoline

to get that kiss from your flamethrower of a mouth

I would engulf every motor in my city.


I am just a man with a woman’s heart.

There is a landmine between my neck

and my navel and all I want you to do is fall for me.


But by the time this reaches your ears,

I will be back in the mouth of a beast

that wants nothing to do with me. It’s teeth will be stars.

It’s gums will drip comets.

I will suspended the sky above my head

waiting for you to notice me and

the crazy thing about stars

is what you see is really an image of something that died a long time ago.

like an egg broken before being boiled for breakfast,

like a dying animal watching the scavengers

wait for a meal, or a victim of it’s surroundings

waiting for someone, anyone to show them love.

Days I Don’t Have (As Appears in July 2014 issue Front Porch Review)

Days I Don’t Have


Desire, her weight

an iron pressed

on me. Our breaths,

steam. Thighs delicately

held, the glass window

both soaked with rain.


Our clothes, autumn leaves, raked

off our bones, urging us

to spring towards each other, grips

shoveling into backs, shoulder

blades, sharpened by the clench.


The evening sky mimics

the interior of us. Shivers,

shakes, shutters, in my arms. Shining

in, the warm orange orb watches her chest

rising and falling, tides in each

breath, bare breasts sun

kissed by the dawn.


We fog the windows, talking

promises that aren’t full of hot air, before

the drawbridges in our mouths connect. Touching

deeper than what fingertips reach

she says she thought you would be the one

for me. I thought so too all those years ago. I forget

to close my front door when she leaves. These

days I don’t have as much to lose.

Your body is a temple I hope I’m worthy enough to pray to.

free write

when the poet in me is restless I make beats.

when the producer in me is restless I write poems.

when both are alive I aim to make love

but love is never created or destroyed

only shared, because love is matter.

love matters. love is all I have.

it is all I know. its all I will ever know.

its all I have ever wanted, all I will want.

I speak in music and dance to words.

I write for the rhythm in your heartbeat

and compose for the language of your tongue.

My fingers communicate for your eyes and ears

yet all they really want is to know if we feel the same.

Mama’s Man

Like the shoelace

the bicycle becomes a memory.

So does the time with the car

and the tire, and the time

you smelled breakfast but mom

was still in bed. Or even if that didn’t happen,

or if he wasn’t yours and was more hers

you remember each time

he sat with you, or talked to you

even if it was about basketball

or your mother, or violence,

or manhood, or standing up for yourself.

Whatever it was, you remember that,

regardless if his name was brother,

uncle, grandpa, friend, that one guy

or father. You remember each memory

that you one day want to be remembered by.

Hold me up to perfect, I will fail unashamed, but up to dedication to your joy, there will be none higher
Poem That Came To Me
I believe in you, says the face to the mirror.
You were not made for defeat, said the god to its creation.
You are greater than your fears, said the heart to the brain.
Love starts and ends here, said the heart to the body.
We are tired but committed to keep going for you, said the feet to the person.
We are a work in progress, worthy and deserving of boundless love,
said the face to the mirror.
These parts, these things that make you, all a result of some prayer,
all blessings to those who meet it.
You are the only owner of you, yet, such a gift you have,
to all that have your presence.
Your body, your body, your body, your body, yours.

And despite what we’ve been through, my fault and the fault of others,
I can say without a doubt that I love you, said the self to the mirror.
Love starts in a place others can’t see or control, within the confines of you.
Love is being blindfolded, and told there is a either a cliff or lover before you, despite his you walk forward.

You are beautiful

not for what I or anyone

else sees but for what

and who you are.