Charleston SC poetry
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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 […]
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.
light follows us wherever we go, no matter how shadowed the mind. but darkness has a sneaky way of taking us over at night and sometimes its sleepy residue remains in the day in spite of the sun’s warm personality and efficient, persistent glow. we sleep through hot nightmares when the only cool air is […]
(inspired by Septima Clark, on what would have been her 120th birthday. Written for the dedication of her historical marker) I. There are spirits among us – ghosts of grassroots movements echoing through our soil. Charleston’s poinsettia was a warrior woman who blossomed despite an unholy city’s unsettled winds. She was light through dark matter, […]
(a poem about lynchings) If the Angel Oak tree could talk, she’d tell us stories we don’t want to hear. Her family has been roped into being the backdrop of racism’s roots, her friends had no choice but to stand, stoic through storms that bore strange fruit. She’d tell you about the relentless weight of […]
a poem about … poetry. i read this in classrooms to get students excited about the art form. filmed at burke high school.
There will be a day when I won’t need mirrors because looking into your eyes will be the only reflection I’ll need to see myself.
Slippery words spill out of us and fall to the floor as we fumble over ourselves on the trip back to the bar.