Category Archives: Literacy
A Reflection: Manufacturing Poetry
I knew I couldn’t do it. But I tried. I tried my damnedest too. April was considered to be National Poetry Writing Month with the goal of writing one poem per day. I couldn’t do this. During this past month … Continue reading
Poetry and That Dark Place
My old license plate read: POET. Driving around was always a pleasure–everyone would speak with me at traffic lights and say they were supposedly a poet, too; or, could I recite a poem to them (as if I always had … Continue reading
Manhattan Yeti (3 of 30)
You came unwarranted. You were the Manhattan Yeti– large and hairy; ape-like with dark reddish hair, emerging from Ground Zero then hiding behind the internet and indie films and poorly written literature; beside Sarah Jessica and Meryl, with your thick tongue and … Continue reading
The Red Wheel Barrel (2 of 30)
So much depends upon The red wheel barrel Filled with banned books, Soon to be burned, Pushed by a castrated Rhineland Bastard Carrying harps along his sides, Playing slightly flat with tubercular coughs, Marching to Pachelbel Canon in D. God … Continue reading
April Fool (Poem 1 of 30)
I opened myself up to ridicule
when I revealed my comfortless heart.
Now I’m just your April Fool. . . Continue reading
My Writing Process (or “Gods Mourn Too”)
In my head, and from a writer’s perspective, writers are Gods. We create and we destroy. We reward and we punish. And yet we, too, mourn. No one wants to punish or destroy their creations. We, writers, mourn. We, writers, grieve. Most often we emote privately because no one will understand why such grief, so it’s easier to do it in seclusion. Continue reading
My Faith in Writing
I have faith that when my dark moments arise (as they always do when least expected) like an unwanted forest fire, destroying everything in my view, and I begin to choke on life, my thoughts can turn to my beacons of hope, the writers before me who found their way out of self-destruction and slay the psychological demons one more time. Continue reading
From One Writer to Another: I Wish I Would Have Known
Simply because something is published and makes great money, doesn’t mean it’s well written or written with purpose for today or tomorrow. Continue reading
Slave Cemeteries: Finding Inspiration in Preservation
We reach a dead end at most attempts to research our history unlike our White counterparts who can claim their ancestor touched the Magna Carta, shook Shakespeare’s hand, or navigated a slave ship that took my ancestors to America or to any of the islands in the Caribbean. Blacks have to make up things and end up passing down lies from generation to generation. Continue reading
The Sargasso Sea: On Being an Outsider
Friends know which buttons to press but they don’t press them. Importantly, genuine friends and loved ones don’t make others feel like an outsider simply because of their race, class, or gender. Continue reading
