Category Archives: Poems

over and over

over and over we come through the worst. we survive ourselves– every ex -halation makes room for us, our selves — *this poem is a re-working of a quote from Michael Eigen’s The Psychoanalytic Mystic 

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outrage sounds.

outrage sounds. official -ly bored. pen scritches. an Excel cell filling. a form -ality. anonymous call center hiss & clatter—keyboards, mouth-breathing, vague voices— we pretend we are not trading scripts: i am <NAME>, a voter in <STATE>. i am <EMOTION> … Continue reading

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Blackstar They, whoever they are, tacked on One final second to the end Of the year. Hateful 2016 skips Death for one more beat, unlike Prince, Leia, thousands of rebels And Syrian civilians, Bowie, Black men, gay men, hispanic Gay men, … Continue reading

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