Life of Don't

Don't smile don't frown don't tease don't volunteer don't sacrifice don't dispossess don't eat don't grow don't get too sad don't drink don't nag don't sit don't stand don't feel don't feel don't feel

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A birthday poem

We wipe black blood on our breasts when it rushes back from our feet. Forgotten oxygen meets heavy footsteps—sunken soil and moistness with the squelch of muddy memories that keep us on our toes...

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I've made a mess of every love and like

I’ve made a mess of every love and like. A series of short stories—all because I can’t forget the little girl who couldn’t show her hurt. For years she stuffed it into bags, assorted smiles, forced and wan but full of dreams they’d someday become real as others’ frowns.

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