if you believe superheroes didn’t exist, then you never knew Georgia Mae Jones. My grandmother. she could have saved the world with her poundcake – it had just the right amount of sugar to defeat any evil inside of you, it could turn a sour weakness into sweetness, take your tastebuds to hyperspace, and awaken […]
welcome to the united states of addiction. in this country, your smart phone holds more meaningful moments than your memory. here, social media is social justice and history is a hashtag for broken screens to get their fix. here, fame doesn’t lead to fortune – just first-world problems. echo chambers for people at war with […]
How does it feel to be officially eligible for a Grammy nomination? REALLY GOOD. The nominations were announced this morning, but “empath” didn’t make the top 5. The Spoken Word category is full of celebrities reading books – Jimmy Carter, David Sedaris, Questlove, Tiffany Haddish, Courtney Vance. “empath” made the top 234 albums for the […]
(written for the Children’s Museum of the Lowcountry) When we walk through a door, we are looking for a safe space for smiles to be let in no matter the status of the sun. We are hoping for the power to play in rooms without judgement, and be completely free to have fun. When we […]
My album with Quentin E. Baxter has made it to the ballot for Best Spoken Word album. For us to get an *official nomination*, we need votes from NARAS and Recording Academy members. If you know any Recording Academy members, will you send them this graphic? And tell them I’ll give them a hug. Please.
my cat doesn’t like car rides. an otherwise fierce feline becomes a furry bundle of fear, rapid-fire breathing and foaming at the mouth, every second is suffocation, every bump in the road is permission for each hard breath to be a puke premonition on my feet, my lap, the back seat. but she paws her […]
cover my skin in sorrow, lay my body down with feathered tears. help me sleep with the dreams of friends who are having conversations with ghosts so that i can wake with their pain. a shared depression, a thread among empaths. give me the compassion and emotional power to be strong when needed.
heads pointing down, eyes avoiding contact. the poet sits in the back, the best version of himself. Life on Mars in his hands, “Wuthering Heights,” low, in his ears. (Low enough that silence seems louder). A man in a blue shirt jokes about how he should have brought beer. I laugh as the scrolling, scrolling, […]
(written about a poet in residence stay at The Betsy Hotel.) south beach is the sudden sweat that soaks up your energy, the sex stores sitting next to the sandwich shop. the bright bikini bodegas holding hands with bougie art museums, the over-priced cocktails mixed with cheap conversation, the poetry project that protects you from […]