[tabby title="Poet Bio"] When I was a child and in communion with the earth, I used dirt to stop myself from bleeding and watched it turn to clay, a red —sometimes black— hardening, proof of a creationOf some sort. a...
[tabby title="Poet Bio"] When you left this town,Rushing away to a life farFrom the void I fed you,You forgot to take with youThe many things you brought:Bags of laughter, shirts of safetyBelts of support and a smelly sockOf despair, despair...
[tabby title="Poet Bio"] Be thereWhen my comfort willBe measured in pieces of silverWhen my skin will crawlUnder my mother's breathBe there.Be there when they crucify meWhen my dank body will droopAbove the twelve glaring eyesOf the lost sonsWho will lash...
[tabby title="Poet Bio"] You can recount six dirty handsTwo of whom were your brother's.Your breasts were sanded by their passionWhen they took what youThought you gave.Boys like brave little girlsGirls like you want male friendsTo feel safe, so you give.Tomorrow...