Category: Poetry and Prose
-
Sleeping Saints returns with ‘The Traveling Musicians’
It has been quite some time since I’ve told a story through my podcast The Sleeping Saints. While I loved the little pet project of mine immediately, a very busy summer taking photos kept me away from sitting down to record episodes for quite some time. However, things have slowed down enough that I can…
-
We’re all free fallin’.
We’re all gasping for air Trying to reorient ourselves After getting kicked out of The gentle waves of pre-consciousness And sent careening through the Hurricane of self awareness And light and dark and warm And cold and mom and dad And horror Without parachute Or plan Strange shapes blurring by A touch here A noise…
-
‘Slavery or Swamp’
This story is the first in an anthology I am currently writing that focuses on my own identity and heritage as a person who is both Black and white, and things in between, through the stories I’ve been told of my family and other Black and biracial people throughout my life. “You’re askin’ for too…
-
If you see Tomorrow
Let me read it to you I miss Tomorrow. I’ve been stuck in Today too long. It was Today yesterday; It was Today the day before that. One long Today lingering, While Tomorrow hides like a timid cat. I woke up early, expecting Tomorrow to be at the door But by the time dinner was…
-
The three of us are dying.
I keep dying in my dreams again. Which means my subconscious is stuck on another loop of wanting to kill its shell. Most of the deaths have been pretty typical. But one sticks with me. Not for its gruesome nature, because it wasn’t. Rather, because it seemed most plausible. I don’t remember much of the…
-
If there were such a person.
If there were someone there to listen, he might say he’s not okay. He might admit that he walks around with a profound feeling that something is missing. Not something like fulfillment or anything like that. He climbed his Everests already, and the pleasure looking back is disappointing. It’s something else, something more meaningful than…
-
The void will sing us to sleep.
She’s gone ahead of us now; You won’t be far behind. I haven’t decided when I’ll be following along. But, the question lingers often in my mind. It’s not that I want to detonate an emotional atom bomb, or that there aren’t things that I’d miss, everyone I’ve ever loved or any lover I gave…
