(Somewhere along you linger, in warm sheets against my facsimile, haunting my dreams like a shade…)

{I know The Sun rests on your shoulders, by the way your skin glows like gilded mahogany.  I know somewhere in your cells lies a wicked light that doth sunder a man to ashes. I know you over again like the Morning Star, it’s lost titles, and the songs of The Heavenly Host.

And you were a promise I chose to keep.  Over and above hollow vows, precious stones, and sweet things which in their apathy, refuse to persist.  You rescued The Day from my night, with The Sun resting on your shoulders. Your name is a word worth keeping.

What does grace look like?

It swims in the eyes of a Black Woman.

What are riches worth?

That which she chooses.

And a Black woman is…?}

[And she took the form of elegant persuasion…

Her hair coiled around the air like cocoa butter and castor oil, starving it of lifelessness.

Lips filling the sky like sun and moon, she had her own gravity.

Something unearthly, Godlike burned in her eyes…

Her skin slid across The Elements like Energy, contouring to the imagination, ebbing and flowing to the desires of the mind.

Flowers blossomed as she sighed.

Her laughter stirred inertia in The Cosmos…

What wit? What force of Fortune would endear me to you?

How horrifying a mistake I’ve made to live so long without you…

Please excuse my tardiness.]



Butterfly in The Night

Stranger things have happened…

Somewhere in the vastness of a churning ocean once, as waves berate rocks into sand.

Under a twilight sky of mystery and intimation, as stars alight dreams and daring of impetuous mortality.

Maybe if I…

Could steal some late hours from you.

Duality is selfless, its hold on individuality selfish.

Soft smile aloft fragile shying wings.

Can I twist the vapors that shapeth aero-space, for you?

Lay your pinions betwixt the aether, scrape aloft stellar parades for you?

March at celestial pace for you, lie in wait attuning Heaven’s gate for you?

Selfishness, that begets selflessness.

These things I feel. And are true.

Eyes that hum like levitation, in the silence of the cosmos, as I lay bare my truths to the peering, beckoning Sun.

Body built like obliteration, humility, worship…My last to be offered beyond my sake.

In you I am lost…

My center redeemed.


I Remember You

[If I had two hands with the depths of God’s…I would pull out everything I feel for you and hang it in the night sky.

I would fashion everlasting, a unity between the two of us persisting like a couplet, sung until it burned through the foundation of matter smelting space and time into a universe.

I would tie myself to you and ask for nothing more…

If I had two hands with the depths of God’s I would scarcely scratch the surface for all that I feel for you…]

(I ruminate on proximity…The closest I could ever be is a mile away. Holding to you is like holding Life itself, in all of it’s splendid and myriad virtues, as well as the tenebrous tangling profane.

You are my movement, my joy, my ease, my light, all things cosmic and gentle…fiery and intimate. I smile with half the effort without you.

Like hands in warm sand and draped in ocean mist I want to breathe you in like a kept promise, like a sudden remembrance, like a return home.

I don’t know but I feel you are my origin…)

{I would lay everything at your feet.

I would meet you at the intersection of art and romance, where power gives way to mercy, and where melanin trades with each other.

Every ounce of your skin I would adorn, no subtlety, I would greet you with thunder.

My hands, my mouth, my eyes, would be made for you…

My skin, my strength, my appetite, would devour you…

No matter how close you were, I would reach for you some more,

Thighs, chest, lips, searching for your roots.

Parting you from senseless senses, heaving you to the coterminous.

I would carry you to the far side of rhapsody…}

Because I remember you…

In The Backroom

Was you a Black Queen in a past life?

Did God grant you a pass like,

From ancestor to grand daughter,

“I got you right the first time,

no added mix to the formula…”

And she said,

“I beat these bruises out my face,

and rub a smile across my lips,

but you can still see the thorns draped around my neck.

So if you think you can just buy my affection,

or spend my time…”

We painted all night in my studio,

She had a candid conversation with my canvas,

As I brushed her skin in candied couture,

Each breath like laughter,

Until honey dripped between her thighs,

The way the flames of another person,

Swallow you whole before you can wade their shallow waters,

I feel comfortable the way we bury our problems in one another.

Fire & Water in The Mouth of Ophiuchus

Beauty resplendent in glory like sunlight,
Won’t you hold me close to your burning skin?
Won’t you draw me in with those eyes like flames?
Boil away the shallow doubts interceding in my veins like frigid rivers of rumination reminiscent of indecision hesitant longings and parting ways.
Won’t you ignite my Summer days?
Ring around my skin like thick coils,
Tongue fluttering like fantasy, black sand restless tides finding comfort in my shadow. The place you reside when you illuminate my desire.
A tight clutch while you drink me in, Sun soaked, star drenched, delight drugged, desperately drunk, existential expression.
Expectantly awaiting touch…
Hot and Wet makes steam.
Fire and Water makes dreams.

Black Goddess

Black goddess
You come bearing gifts with names like peace and poetry.
May I remind you of your smile?
Your beauty contours within the mind with potency.
You beckon with divinity that doth preach to me humility.
May I remind you that your smile occupies infinity?
With that deep seated skin of envy, loose curls, black beach, rolling waves, of aromatic ecstasy.
May I remind you of your smile infinitely?
You come bearing exotic gifts like emotions and longing for memories.
I’ll put a place for you on my ambition’s throne, for women like you belong in the heart of song and deserve to make dreams their home…
May I remind you to whom your smile belongs?
I just want to lease it, with an extended lifetime warranty in case I misplace it.
May I remind you of your complexity?
Omniscient, because all I know is all the things that I would do for you.
Omnipotent, because you empower, design, desire and creativity.
Omnipresent because no matter where I go I can’t stop thinking about you, filling my vision with your dominion.
That is your work Goddess…that is your worth to me.

Precursor to a Dream (I)

The sun shone bright in the sky, partially obscured by a thin veil of clouds as a gentle mist rolled across the empty plains of grain. The sensation was at once familiar and alien, as the rolling plain stretched off into distant mountains. In the heart of the field, a figure stirred, exciting the wind across the plain. Clumsily the figure clambered to its feet and strode across the plain quickly, almost floating.

“Where?” thought the strange entity, searching the horizon for a sense of orientation. Almost as if to answer the question, the entity noticed a worn, bronze mirror staring out at the vast plain about twenty yards away. Again, the presence wove its way deftly through the world soaking in the exquisite feeling of the grain’s cradling and bending.

As it approached the entity noticed the unreasonable size of the mirror, almost towering above it, much like the grain. Closer and closer, the reflection twisted and churned, until suddenly the reflection hit the creature’s eyes with force. A small girl stared back into the eyes of the presence.   She had small frail limbs and bright, round, almond colored eyes. Her pouty lips rested just bellow a cute button nose. Deep chestnut brown skin with hair neatly pulled back into a pair of small Afro puffs towards the back of her head.

Abigail stared at her own reflection in stupefied amazement, it was her, but not at all the present her. She stared at a distant version of herself from roughly twelve years ago. She had only ever seen herself like this in her grandmother’s old photo albums and distant snatches of memories. She even sported the same lilac church dress and sandals her grandmother always forced her to wear on every special occasion.

Looking down at her hands for confirmation, she counted her fingers, one, two, three, four, five, six? Her elongated fingers warped and stretched into an additional pair of hands as she studied them carefully while them turning over? Then the words of her old teacher clicked in her mind “Don’t forget to perform reality checks frequently.” With effort Abigail managed to push her fingers through her forehead and could feel the buzzing frenetic energy of her brain before carefully removing them.

“I am dreaming.” She said, resolutely convinced. And indeed she was, this was the first lucid dream she had for almost half a year. She had grown so complacent with not having them she had allowed herself the luxury of not performing reality checks. Abigail’s nine-year-old eyes studied the landscape, searching for a settlement to discover.   All she could make out in the distance was a lone oak tree she hadn’t noticed before stretching into the sky in a distant part of the field.

“May be worth a look” Abigail muttered, “But first these hands.” She stared down at her deformed dual hands sprouting from the ends of her wrist and with great concentration willed them to reform into the shape of ordinary human hands. Before her eyes the hands illusory hands merged with her true flesh and vanished, leaving behind nothing but two perfectly proportioned five fingered hands, each at the end of two spindly limbs.

Abigail returned her gaze to the mirror and decided the body of a nine-year-old girl was not befitting and willed herself to grow, but to no avail. “Hmm, strange,” She thought. “I can’t grow…” As far as she could remember from her old sessions with her teacher, she should have majestic powers, here in her dreams she should be able to wield terrible and awesome powers and yet, nothing. She couldn’t even fly. But she was unreasonably fast here, especially for a nine year old. She turned elegantly on her heel and strode towards the great oak tree.