Takeaway

Reality is richer
than fiction

I found the dress
I was raped in
and didn’t know
what to do with it.
I haven’t for years

You know the dress too,
Marilyn Monroe’s iconic
white dress
cooling herself
over a subway grate.
It happened on a Halloween
I was her
he was pimp
reality, richer than fiction.

The first poem
I ever wrote
was titled, “Dirty White”
written at 12
about a woman
raped
feeling dirty
in a dress
on her wedding day,
foreshadowing my own
event.

I’ve contemplated,
burning it
as if the fire
could burn away the memory,
I’ve thought about
giving it away
but fearful that
it will be someone else’s
misfortune.

I’ve thought about
washing and wearing it
a bizarre testament
that I’ve healed
then dread washes over me
like unexpected rain
that it will happen again.

Marilyn and I are bonded
insight into
a polarizing figure
the sadness behind her eyes
the madness that consumed her
but shines effortlessly on screen
Impossible to look away from
her reality greater than fiction.

I’ve thought about
my experiences
Trying to justify
Find reasoning
Accepted that I’m given what
I can handle.
My poetic purpose interpreting
reality richer than fiction.

Vision 

Imagina una realidad 

Where indígenas 

are not reduced to 

Hunter gatherer 

Teepee dwellers. 
Estudiantes learning

More than just their role

in the 1600s.
The iconography 

Of the Cleveland

Indians

Redskins

ceased to exist

Rightfully 

Represented as

Living

First Nation people. 
English was not

the language of this land.
16,000 languages existed

and flourished,

Now only fossilized by

The names of places.
La solución es organización. 

Manor Ave.

For one summer
I was invincible,
Flying underneath
the trees.

A pink bicycle
was my wings,
three friends
sharing one joyride.

Learned how to fly
thanks to my ducks
Melissa & Kim

One block
in a one square mile
town
seemed like the world.

Tracks
encapsulated
by wet cement,
flanked by fireflies
held close by August nights

Days of smiling and shrieking
bellies full of slushies.

I never rode again.

Cycle

Yellow leaves descend

to the Earth

final resting place

awaiting

their rebirth

 

Surrendering to the wind’s carress

Falling like little black dress

blanket of

hopes

possibilities

reflect on abilities

 

be in the flow

moving purposely slow

Don’t think

just go

to decode

what the

wooden block

encodes

 

Together

Heart beating
a feeling
patterns into a name
then a face
appears
as
sudden
as summer rain.

after the first kiss
you’re never
the same
whispers
to be reunited
with the one
you love.

grateful to stars
illuminating
the way
guiding me
to create
my own fate

The series

The struggle is real
living out honestly
say what you feel
be a voice that
activates
not merely
regurgitates
requires
meditating
contemplating
evaluating
the world at large

the struggle to love
openly
showing vulnerability
requires
special capability
but to love
is magic
the most special
of abilities

overcoming is a struggle
adversity
creates
tenacity
resilience
is born from
perspicacity
break
blocks
weave your dreams
to reality.

Timeless

Make those notes
Kiss the sky
Jimi
Send them beyond
The universe’s limits
Your art cannot be
Confined to an exhibit
The power of love
Still hasn’t overcome,
Seems like a new era
Of chaos has begun.
I’m in the reincarnation
Of a foxy voodoo child
Soaring from healed
Broken wings
You set my spirit
Free
Saving it from the
Dust of eternity

Kindness

Stranger sage

has saved many

days

 

Whispers of

inspiration on

commuter train

 

Encouraging

words engraved in

my bones

 

Conversations with

the future

toasting to the unknown

 

Sharing an umbrella

when the sky

decided on pouring marathon

 

People come and go

but impact in

fleeting moments.

 

 

She was

Type of woman
Made the ground
shake
Voice soft
Like a drop
Of dew

Beauty
Unparalleled
Fueled by
Her humble
Giving
Self

Graceful like
A gazelle
Floating above
Clothed in the
Sun,moon
At her feet

Birthed twins
Balance and Harmony
Sent to restore
heal the Earth.
Love is what
They poured