10. lonesome

there he goes again,

the poor, lonely man

sitting out on his porch,

20 something, handsome,

but there was never

a smile on his face

when i saw him seated

on the porch’s bench.

he’d merely stare

if you gave him a wave,

i’d only see the man

drink his sorrows away,

the feeling of emptiness,

often only internal,

suddenly felt as though

it jumped out and sat

right next to him.

what was he thinking?

what was his story?

why did he hurt?

what caused his pain?

a picture on the porch,

his mom and his dad,

pops left, mom’s dead,

now it’s only him,

gotta make it on his own,

i’d like to hear his stories out,

bet he’d make you feel the pain

in every word he’d say.

pray for his peace,

pray he finds himself,

pray that, one day,

he makes his mama proud.

9. illusion, part 3

this is the most scared

that i’ve felt all day,

heard a local artist installed

a spinning spiral piece,

wanted to see it

but i kept my distance,

hoped the crowd would fade

but it’s been this big all day,

take a deep breath

and try to brave the storm,

get as close as i can

before it kicks in.

in the middle of the pile,

i try to stand up

on my tippy toes,

just wanted a peak,

does it really spin?

from a distance,

it surely does,

fading in and out

on the page,

there’s never an end,

works just as planned.

but after a minute,

i finally feel it,

the crowd around me

feels taller than i thought,

i try to keep breathing,

but my vision’s black

and the crowd’s chatter

starts to fade out,

everything will be fine,

just don’t fall down,

keep my balance,

keep my balance,

keep my balance,

keep my…

nope.

8. woodpecker

banging my head

against these trees,

i deal with the rigors

of living among the picidae,

i’m called “insane,”

you don’t know my pain,

antisocial, i shake,

chase and i feed,

i want to live in solitary,

can we keep it that way?

stop calling me woody

and get the hell away from me.

i am the woodpecker

and this is my forest,

today i awoke in the noon,

sometimes i think i’m an owl,

but dad doesn’t like that,

he tells me it’s time

to get out of my nest,

fend for myself,

grow and live on my own.

but i’m not ready yet.

look at everyone else,

they got their families,

they found their purpose,

but cut to me,

and i’m stuck

inside my mama’s nest,

still in endless debt,

and i wonder if i’ll ever get

away from my pain,

i guess this is life’s test

to see how much i can take.

7. days in macaroni

we used to call it “macaroni,”

too young to say it right,

think back to the times

where we would climb,

sit so high, you’d think

we were royalty,

crawl through the tunnel

and down the slide we go,

remember being the kid

who wanted to be the best

and swing the highest?

adventure!

cut to my teens,

and a few paces away,

we’d play on the field,

baseball was our game,

i wasn’t the strongest bat,

but i’ll never forget when

i turned a popup to first

into a home run,

or when the others played

with the infield in,

and i hit it over their heads,

hustled home and scored a run.

i almost felt like jeter.

now, when i walk by,

i see everyone else

having their fun

in the same way i did,

wish i could go back,

it all felt so quick,

suddenly i’m 21

and there’s no one

to play baseball with,

but hopefully, these kids

will make great memories

like i did long ago.

it’s pronounced “marconi,” by the way.

6. illusion, part 2

why the hell am i here?

of all the places

mom could take me

for my spring break,

it had to be this?

some creepy exhibit

of optical bullshit?

i could think of ten

better places to spend

my vacation, but nope,

i’ve gotta be cramped in

with some super nerds

looking at these brain teasers.

do none of them know about google?

and why are so many people

crowding around spinning spirals?

you guys paid $15 for this?

the internet is free, you know!

can’t you look this up

on your phone?

you act like you’ve never

seen it before,

haven’t gifs rendered

these silly things extinct?

how do they keep getting

such giant crowds?

mom, can we go home now?

5. sportsball ring

i never understood

what dad saw in that thing.

of all the keepsakes

to place on display,

why a stupid football ring?

it’s not like he played the game.

all he ever did

was sit and watch

with his friends,

i’d hear them curse

and yell at the TV,

they’d say some things

i wouldn’t even repeat.

what was the big deal?

a bunch of guys

threw some ball around,

won a big game,

and get these shiny rings?

guess it’s all because

he waited so long,

dad wanted something

his childhood couldn’t give,

seeing his team succeed

after years and years,

he’ll treasure the feeling forever,

no matter whether the team

sinks or swims from here,

that one special year

will never leave his memory,

i guess it’s best to just

let him have that victory.

i still don’t like the yelling, though.

4. illusion, part 1

like nothing i’ve ever seen,

swarms of people gathered here

to witness my first framed piece,

years i thought i’d wasted

made their way into this exhibit,

and so many are flocking to it,

whether or not it’s their favorite,

the fact that they came today

to celebrate a local like me,

i couldn’t believe it.

i cut my way to the front

to get a single shot

i can show to my mom,

i’ll tell her, “look, i made it!”

she’ll smile and squeeze

the life out of me, but first,

she’ll need to see it,

with my hood up,

i say “excuse me,”

and make my way through

this massive group,

chatterboxes that critique,

“who made this? it’s great!”

i make it to the front,

and there it is.

my beautiful illusion,

black and white circles

spin in succession,

just like the audience,

i’m somehow hypnotized

by my own work,

the optical games

at play,

i love how they

go off the page,

i didn’t think it’d work,

but they keep spinning

and i almost forgot

to capture it for mom,

good thing i got the video

before it pulled me in.

3. ride

seated inside the ride,

rip ride rockit,

a quick breath

to take in the fresh air,

before i’m buckled into

this boisterous ride,

a clash that snaps me

out of my chilled-out state,

I try in vain

to calm myself,

put my brain into a place

of peace and happiness.

then suddenly,

like a granite rock 

attack to the cranium,

i’ve been sent,

slingshotted in

like bart simpson, 

and there I sit, 

the zenith of the ride’s

vertical extent, 

i return to my head

once again as we all wait

for the drop,

spins and tilts and slides,

and a baby cries,

to my surprise,

did they make it

on the ride?

i don’t have time,

just calm my mind.

and with a breath,

i take the plunge.

2. cleaning my memories

scrubbing the tub,

the sponge scrapes

upon the clear,

bright surface,

and the scratchy

noise of the tool

grows as the tub shines

and smoothes out,

but don’t step too close,

or the pesky chemicals 

will enter wherever they can,

keep it shut

if a funky taste

isn’t something you favor,

but savor the scent

of the finished product,

reminiscent of the waterpark

frequented as a child,

all the memories flood back

as fast as the shower

when the water flows out

to rinse it all away,

like the memory fading,

a wave crashes

and as you look

at the newly clean bathroom,

it’s all back to the status quo,

wait for the cycle to repeat next week.

1. how to tame a monster

his presence was all that kept you in a calm state on the darkest of days, when you had no one to run to, and his soft cuddles were all you needed to leave you peaceful. the smartphone was no companion to stay by your bedside, all you had with stitch to hold in your arms. he kept both eyes out to protect you from the monster under your bed, you weren’t ready to face him head-on, so you left it to your bodyguard to fight him while your eyes closed. do you remember the fear of waking to his aching leg? prayed every day that mama had in it her to take the pain away? then you flashed back to the time you met a friend, scared to say even a single word until stitch extended a hand to introduce you. now, you walk into a class of strangers, but you don’t have him to break the ice, left back at home with all the keepsakes and tried to learn to function on your own. someone walks up to you and extends their hand, what do you do?

the workshop chronicles preface

my 29th poetry album is a bit different than some of my other ones. i call this one "the workshop chronicles." in a way, this is more of a b-sides project, and this album is comprised of poems that i wrote during my poetry workshop class in my senior year of college. i had intentions of releasing these poems at some point, but just never got around to it until now. so, here they are, intact in the state they were in at the end of the semester. that said, i did make a few changes to fit my aesthetic (our professor hated when we typed in all lowercase, but now, i have the freedom to do that). even though i don't like to say much about the poems in these prefaces, i will actually provide some context for each one. as they were all written as part of assignments, i'll give some insight as to the assignment each poem was attached to:

1. how to tame a monster - for this assignment, we had to write a poem based on one of the works from kayo chingonyi's poetry book "kumukanda." mine was based on the poem "guide to proper mixtape assembly."

2. cleaning my memories - with this, we had to write a poem about an odd job.

3. ride - the stipulation with this was to write a poem about a public place. 

4. illusion, part 1 - technically, the three parts of this poem were all one long piece, but i decided to cut it into three individual poems for this album. basically, we had to focus on voice with this, writing the same poem, but from the perspective of three different characters. this was the perspective of one character.

5. sportsball ring - here, we had to focus in on a specific heirloom.

6. illusion, part 2 - part 2 of the aforementioned three-part poem.

7. days in macaroni - with this, we had to write a poem about a landscape/location unique to our area.

8. woodpecker - simply, we had to write a poem about an animal, zeroing in on its lore and character traits, and implementing that into a story.

9. illusion, part 3 - the third and final part of the aforementioned three-part poem.

10. lonesome - finally, we had to write a poem where we created a character.