“The first kiss can be as terrifying as the last.” —Daina Chaviano
if a baby knew what a kiss could do, would the breast be more of a place secure? i'm a big girl now but i don't know how, for i've kept myself on a foolproof shelf. is it of the tongue or just of the lips? is it of the bosom or of the hips? is it heaven-sent or is it hell-bent not to satisfy but to make you die? does a girl's first kiss make her heartbeat miss? ...
am i not yet a brother in the battle, though tempers flourish like stampeding cattle? black my story for your glory! be not afraid, love is not dead: though rough white hands have treated me like chattel, my strong black arms shall save you from death’s throttle.
for my beautiful daughter Kimberli, on her birthday (September 6)
i saw your net worth at your birth, when all the glad earth, filled with mirth, dispelled the fierce dearth of hope’s girth, kindling my slept dreams at the seams. ｏ you are the kindling that i bring; drink from the wellspring of my zing. fast am i fading from the ring; lose not life’s passion: drink the sun!
A river that feeds a village is better than an ocean that merely decorates an island.” ―Matshona Dhliwayo
that’s where the local barefoot boys unearth fresh worms for bait as fishermen, midst egret noise, wait for the river’s spate to trickle to a steady flow before they toss torn nets at chances—they suppose—below might change vile epithets.
that’s where the bursting nets offload the burden of their catch as pent-up agonies explode beneath the village watch. fleet, broad-hipped vendors de-compose ...
baby boom wild fauna finds new mates spring flora pollinates bursts of rich colours bump and grind to serenade the wind every bloom its own transcendent song spills forth the whole day long lilacs and dandelions dance the unborn takes last chance in the womb
odessa waits with wide spread arms to welcome brand new april charms