Category «prose»

un-yesterday

There is nothing here. Only waves of memories folding over unrelenting experiences. I will no longer question my thoughts, but instead, carve question marks into stones; and diamonds and gold. Carve them into clouds and raindrops and the wind. My footprints will become question marks left behind as I crease the sands that endlessly wash …

time leaves

one day, when time leaves snow will be warm and the sun green. the ancestors will return and birth, painless. knowledge drinkable and love no longer for sale. i will be the birds i envy. they will walk in human skin. when time leaves i will understand the un-now and know the meaning of living.

words come

i read the wind. the words color me in shades of scented gardenias. the words take to the clouds, and write their sex song. i am churned by the scent of ecstasy. my yoni rises to meet you in between the rough sentences. words come. they come, and come. the wind writes its stories on …

the cauldron

the moon waits for me. i become the terpsichorean, naked, fragile, unclothed in darkness. my hips are my cauldron. i stir. i stir for the babies not yet conceived. i stir for love and longing. i stir for survival. i wait for the moon. and it waits for me. i stir.

love and courage

In the space of love and courage, I breathed you in and exhaled the touches you left on my skin. Letting go brings pain and lucidity in equal measure. But I now know myself better than I needed to know you. At times, the self I’ve discovered is a stranger invading my life without mercy. …

park benches

Photograph by zaji, April 19, 2016 the park benches wait for children. lonely and longing for the weekend fraught with giggles and bruised knees, they wait for light and dark to revolution less than six times. that is all it will take to bring the children. sneakered and bare feet trampling the sand. the benches …

the passionate journal

Brick red journal. Pleather string wrapped three times, tight, to seal the words inside. Gem stone glued to the middle, circled by a carved and braided sunshine design, a mandala. Spine pleather crossed holding together the many sentences that spill across pages unnumbered. the journal laughs and weeps all at once. i am merely a …

universe

Undulating within dark words reaching for dying stars. Nubian night finds us inventing stories of our beginnings. Ichor is there for drink, if you want, if you dare. Venus is just up ahead, a little to the left and on ’til dusk. Endings exist at the edge of a dark multiverse. Remember your beginnings so …

inside dreams

i am the lost ghost in your gently fading dreams that hesitantly leave you to greet the sun. woolgathering won’t change the trajectory of a life not lived; except in small dark spaces, between cracks and crevices that hide from light and life seeking itself. there remains the remnants of the not-you, the un-person who …

galaxy luggage

Writing Prompt: Suitcase Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. galaxy luggage found travel stickers across the milky way. my suitcase has seen Jupiter and Saturn. winged feet prefer clouds doubling as stones to take me across stars flowing like waters. i skip across clouds white and emptiness. planet hopping is free.…

galaxy luggage was originally published on zaji

galaxy luggage was originally published on zaji

dirty blues

This is an unedited excerpt from a work in progress. Down by the jook joint is where the sweatin’ and grindin’ began. But it by no means ended there. It was a Sunday evening, just after church and before the end of the Sabbath for some. I was always there, bumpin’ and grindin’ with the …

error: Content is protected !!
Malcare WordPress Security