When the power goes off   in the mountains we snuggled close, letting the electricity of bodies light up  the room brighter  than any fire...

  There are not   enough fingers or toes to  count how much  you tickle me — April PAD day 12 - counting poem 

  When they tell you   to make art of your pain they don’t tell you that you’re going to feel it so deeply that it rewrites your insides  li...

I took your words as  promises, as plans,  but they were just possibilities  — April PAD Day 6 - a blank poem 

Catching up with you is  like catching butterflies elusive and brief but beautiful  __ April PAD day 4 - “catch up” poem 

have I let myself  be rooted in the  shade of others?  Have I turned my leaves  toward any shiny object  mistaking it for sun?  Do the twist...

The voices of the dead cannot speak, but if they could they'd  rise up through the throats of the jury  "guilty," convict the ...

Inspired by Resmaa Menakem's work and teachings ... and a recent podcast he was on Your body was  not your own it served at  the pleasu...

Our wires haven’t been crossed the power lines   are in completely different counties — April PAD Day 3 prompt: communication 

Would you love me more   if this body was thinner  his thinning hair thicker her thickness less sexy their sexiness more tame his tameness m...

Hi, my name is not nearly as important what you call me  behind closed doors, closed  minds, or closed hearts  where you fetishize an  exoti...

Love is watching from afar letting him struggle because he has to learn himself Love is taking the 3 a.m. call because his anxiety is ...

is it just a quirk in the system that those who are dying on the frontlines of injustice across our country are mostly black and brown...

The forest calls beckons me to  stand  beneath the canopy,  drink in  the evergreen expanse  feet planted like roots, one with natu...

we're all just breath breathing each-other -- April PAD - Poetic Asides Day 19: 6 words

There is nothing exotic  about  caging tigers  or  people poverty is  a zoo  and the  keepers  long ago threw away the keys allowed t...

The last time I felt  certain about something  was  when I left the city and felt the freedom of the open road pulling me into lush fo...

He still visits me in my dreams loves me as if he hadn't traversed an ocean and decided to leave our baggage behind -- April...

I don't like checking boxes (I'm an "other") or drawing inside the lines (let me free!) I don't like tucked sheet...

They say he had his demons I saw them on his face anguished, angry, ashamed they feasted on the memories he could not share there ...