Mother Baby
desired tenderness
cosyclose
Category Poetry
The Drownings
The hillside,
buff & white,
is an illusion
Paraphrasing A Dream
Oh Lord, I might’ve taken too much of your time
For The Little Black Girl Under The Table
today the street lights dance
Love Poem
You are everything I want to know.
FOUR LOKO CENTO BASS (PUT IT DOWN)
we backup vocalists
shake the asphalt
top flight harmonies
The Park
sounds just like a baby
sighing in his sleep
Eruption
our connection
Over Whatsapp is spotty as the internet is eaten by sharks
Deep
never crossing Halsted Street
into strange, unfamiliar neighborhoods
because I know the boundaries of my world.
Bodies
the steam and gas locomotives still
Hiss as if they’re remembered