Reflections from Spring Street

Wound

Bring it to me
your rage
Gently,
to soothe the burn
calm the swelling that grows
beneath the skin, puss
of a heartless tyrannical nation.

Falling reigns brash and untrue
like stories of savagery and inferiority
all because of my ebony.
My hands bleed
when I attempt to grab them,
the falling rains
soothe my rage.

The Wetness is welcome.

A Word Dream

I dreamed a dream in which I am dreaming of a dream but the dream scares me so that I don’t want to ever dream a dream in which I am dreaming of a dream or dreamed of a dream again. I find dreaming okay ‘til I dream that I am dreaming about a dream that I dreamt in a past dream. I can only dream why I am scared to dream about dreams— ‘cause every time I dream I’m going to dream about a dream. I may even go as far as to dream a dream in which I am dreaming about a dream that I dreamed before this dream. Could life be just a dream we continue to dream until we awake to discover we have been dreaming the perfect imperfect dream?

Dreamily,
Dreamer

12 Days in April

Vision swelling
Tears are burning
Disappearing
Eyes won’t see me.

Fading pictures
Graying grayer
Disappearing
And I can’t have you.

Running into
Soul survivors
Condescending
Smiles are flashing.

Trying to listen
To the night sing
Condescending

‘cause you can’t hear it bruise me.