Little palms must have begged for forgiveness (invasion of course) Hiding under wooden benches Jaws clenched (a gunpowder bite) Eyes shut tight Heads full of bright lights must’ve been blasted open with big bombs The inside must’ve spilled onto cold concrete intestine like flesh glistening, leaking bloody theories about why the sky was as blue… Read More December


I wonder if the people’s gaze melts down for her into stardust For she seems unstoppable, and walks away with contagious  grace. …. She fiddles with her hair as she struts by in her knee high boots And flirts with the man whose gaze wanders her way, unapologetically. ….. I wonder how she hides her… Read More Panache