I have been working on a poetry book ❤ Here a bunch of unreleased poems.


birth + decay

puberty + desire

toxic + depression


moving forward








the complete flower head of a plant including stems, stalks, bracts, and flowers.
* o the arrangement of the flowers on a plant.
* o the process of flowering.









a cracked yolk split between her thighs.
she rushed to clean up her shame.
yellow stained her hands,
yellow stained her child,
who was born in a world designed to hate.

-the early nineties


sweet mother’s tongue
and fresh curls, a bundle
of love sprouted from the earth.
a flower without a name,
she leaned down and pecked
the petals, naming me–



she loved me before
i was baby soft skin
and a gummy smile.

-she loved me before i was me


she plucked a fruit from a nearby tree.
drooping and heavy from bearing fruits, pretty and pink,
she heard a voice from the tree, inviting her to wish for anything.
she clutched the fruit to her chest and split open the top,
sucking on the juices, her fingers sticky and red,
she scraped her nails on a single seed. leaning back, she bit her
lips as she spread her thighs and pushed the seed inside of her.
she planted her feet in the soil and prayed. a night-bloomer,
i’ll have. She kissed her fingertips and caressed the moon. a night-bloomer,
she’ll be, only opening her petals to the night, a rare view to see.

-i was conceived in moonlight


she was barren. except in her dreams.
when she rested her head
and shut her eyes, she dreamed
in colors, so vividly,
she thought of me.

-born from a dream


she bore me. alone.
in the trees. i fell.
to the earth. like
a bouquet of bees.

-chaotic birth


she lathered me in honey
and wove mint leaves
in my hair.

-first bath


a fleshy
pink seed
down her legs.
a birthmark,
wine red,
she closed
her eyes
and believed herself



she listened to Heavy-D
and biggie when she
cruised through the streets.
kirk franklin reserved for sundays.
the fugees and swv when she
was feeling weak.
erykah badu gave her wings,
and Tupac reassured her
that it all would be okay.

-my mother’s CD’s


i was nothing more
than a lamentation
of damns and fucks.
a mistake in the
place of baby’s breath.

-bastard i


a baby born out of hate;
she can go either way.

-bastard ii


she came from the sky.
her mother a goddess,
her father a slave,
she crashed into the earth
and drowned in the waves.

-bastard iii


he pushed into her
like a conqueror,
he pleasured her like
a courtesan. she came
like rain showers,
his face splattered in tears,
he pushed her head down
and fucked her like
it was game.

-his pleasure


crashing waves
and palm trees,
she spread her thighs,
and conjured hurricanes
with trembling knees.

-her pleasure


white America. Japanese art.
white picket fence. brown leaves.
white bread. lox spread.
white hair. brown lips.
white lies. yellow screams.
bleached words. French wine.
Chicago accents. Brooklyn music.

-is there truly a white America?


he chased down the dawn
in search of a cure.
bloody streaks
in the sky, he damned God,
wondering what he did
to live like this?



mercury dyed her
hair. her lips,
swollen from the sea’s kiss,
she sent waves to the shore,
and met the volcanic
beaches of black sands.

-tidal waves


the sand and sea
were once lovers.
never truly together
but they found a way.
he would send her
letters in the sand
and she, the sea,
would come by, and
sweep them away.



a yellow rain coat
and chunky steve maddens,
she gathered cosmos
between her hands
and blinked infatuation
into existence.

-college pictures i


smile wide and
bright like a billboard,
stride wide-legged and smitten,
eyes beholden of a prize,
he held her hand
with such pride.

-college pictures ii

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