Tie Your Shoelaces
Some poems ignite from writing group prompts, just like this one. All I had to do was go back in time and give my younger self advice that could change…
Promising Hands
Saliva-soaked palms, handshake. Pin to the finger, blood print. Intertwined pinkies, spell chant. One hand to the sky, heart crossed. I wrote this poem for a BlueSky prompt: “What are…
Words Breathe
WORDS ONLY DIE WHEN YOU COMPLY Activists, do not obey. Let’s activate to Advocate for our freedom and repeat all the terms they told us are treason: Speak up and…
End of Democracy
Not enough Americans have been hungry– real hungry: scouring the drawer a hundred times and finding nothing to devour not even a ketchup packet. Not enough Americans have lost…
2025 – Week Two
It is numb anticipation like the tsss of a wick just an eighth-inch sniff from nitroglycerin.
Rage Phase (Warning: sweary processing of reality)
What to do with this rage? The red, jaw-strained; fingernails penetrating palm epidermal layers, the sizzling flashes of this wick of bomb, these bursts, these flames! What the fuck do…
New poem: Disobedient Goddesses
My friends, I am processing 4.5 decades of feminist rage in this new poem, “Disobedient Goddesses.”