Funeral Rights Poems

Mamie Till Mobley demanded and open casket,
to let the world see,
the bloated, beaten body of her baby boy,
who was lynched in Mississippi.

His name was Emmett...

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Use to Be

My best friend... 
I would bring things to you. 
You needed or wanted. 
I would talk to you for hours, 
about whatever you...

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Loss

How can I express, 
something that can not be written down, 
unless you can grasp lightening, 
harness thunder, shush a whisper…
or ask your self if...

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Boxes of Hope

In the attic there is tensile. 
Bright and lovely, reflective pieces
of fluff to begin the journey. 

One, two, three,
a dozen cardboard containers. 
I...

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California Cold 

Rented cars…
every month the cost?
Bread and milk.
Why? 
To go get my kids. 
I had to. 
My own car was bad, 
unreliable, and dangerous....

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Grandma

My hands hesitate here… hovering over the keyboard…
Numb, hard to make do as I ask…
This should be happy, 
but I am…
crying.

I miss her. 

She smoked...

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A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
tranquility gurgles 
through silent valleys
over mountains
around the earth
refracted 
through the wind

The creature soars ever higher
in great...

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In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
              ...

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My Dad was Chicagoan.
He would light up a room just like my Mom. 
He loved to fish ! He loved his beer .
He also designed...

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No way to go
No way to go farther
Farther from the isle of breath
No way to fumble
A few steps more in vain
To go dancing in the...

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