my president
Sores & Dressings: A Post Election Moment of Comfort
In the month of not-so-thankful thoughts
On words: a Thanksgiving thought
RAW DELIBERATION OF CIRCUMSTANCES
Once you lie a lot, it’s like second nature
NO APOLOGIES TO AMERICA ANYMORE
In preparation for fiery climates: a poem to America
Mathematics of healing: a poem to America
In our nation’s capital or America is a poem
INFINITE DESIGN OF A MOUTH, OPEN
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Why are we here if not for each other?
—Claudia Rankine, Don’t Let Me Be Lonely
We, too, can divide ourselves, it’s true. But only into flesh and a broken whisper.
—Wisława Szymbroska, view with a grain of sand
Say it again—we are spared nothing.
—Yusef Komunyakaa, I Apologize for the Eyes in My Head
At the hand of other
& of desire; how we thirst below flesh, below cortex, below pelvis; the minute
