Thursday, June 25, 2015

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Saturday, June 20, 2015

A poem a day for 2015 - for day 132 - Raw

We are allowed to
feel angry. We are humans
who grieve our loved ones.

A poem a day for 2015 - for day 131 - Charleston

White man walks into
church where praying folks gather
open arms then shot

Brewing

I am not ready to write a poem about Charleston. Not yet. One is brewing. I am not ready to let it out. Soon though.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Friday, June 12, 2015

Gratitude

I am thankful for this day
I am thankful for enough
Enough love
Enough money
Enough time
Enough peace
Enough enough
Enough patience
I am thankful for my son
My family and friends
For safety
For freedom
For health
For energy
I am thankful for work
For vehicle
For food and shelter
For being thankful

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Gratitude

Praising God for a beautiful and rich and wonderful life.

Barnes and Nobel at The Grove with Uraeus

It's 4:53 and I am at Barnes and Noble sitting in the rear of the store while Uraeus shops for books. This is one of his favorite stores (if not his favorite), and he has his own money, so we will be here a minute (and a half) even though he said he just wants a journal. I know my son.

I could use some food, some fruit, some sleep, some money and a latte. This is my second moment of the day I took / am taking to breathe. I woke up early this morning...and sat. And said a prayer. Not for anything in particular, just the morning called for purposeful prayer. Of thanksgiving, of listening, of questioning, of asking, of remembering and more thanksgiving. Mostly that. Mostly giving thanks for the blessing and adventure and story and conflict and creation that is my life. My moment to moment. The way it changes and stays the same in comfortable and crooked ways.

I am a poet, a writer, a mother. I get called and pulled into this purposeful prayer often. I am a black woman. I am an American. I am African. I am an artist. I am gumbo. I am monster soup. So I write and pray. And I sit in bookstores and type while my son wanders. I am proud I birthed a reader.

I am in an uncomfortable chair. But the big chair on the second floor is occupied. I wanted to give the lady a look. I didn't. Who do I think I am? --- A dog is barking. In the Starbucks line.

I will wrap this up. This is about nothing. My nothing. Only about my need to busy my fingers. To set free words in my head to make room for new thoughts. New stuff.

Soon come. New stuff soon to come.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

A poem a day for 2015 - for day 128 - I do

I legit
be counting
blessings
not sheep
but all this good good
I live

A poem a day for 2015 - for day 127 - Days

there are some days i don't feel like
i'm doing any of it right
not mothering
not daughtering
not sistering
not friending
not selfing
not poeting
not nothin'
and maybe you have those days too
and maybe you do like me and
just hold your head in your fists
and count your
blessings
anyway

A poem a day for 2015 - for day 126 - You

Sitting in waiting
Room for doctor to say that
Your big heart is healed

Sunday, June 7, 2015

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Uraeus. Santa Monica. Through the Looking Glass.

2:14 pm and I'm parked at a restaurant in Santa Monica while Uraeus takes his tests. I am proud of him. This process is moving along. I'm a bit tired though. I spoke this morning at Jefferson High School to the ninth graders, class of 2018. They are moving on to their next step and I got up early to recite a poem I wrote dedicated to them. It was a beautiful ceremony.

I'm in the car now preparing for a workshop called Through the Looking Glass tonight at The World Stage before the weekly writing workshop begins. I need to be working on my book for CLI but I'll push that to tomorrow morning.

Okay, I have no segway for this next thought but it is burning inside me and must come out. I was just on the phone with Nspire who lives in Inglewood and she told me that a young man in her neighborhood was killed last week. The young man, nineteen years old, died in his mother's arms. They were headed to the beach when the son who had the appearance of a thirteen year old boy told his mother that another man told him to take his shoes off. As the mother turned around she saw her son fall from a gunshot. This is ridiculous! Word was that last week was gang initiation week. This sounds like an urban myth. I don't know what to believe but I know a young man is dead and another family is torn apart over nothing. I know my heart is breaking and my nerves are crazy. I know I am praying for all of our children. Our boys and girls. I know this has to stop.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

A poem a day for 2015 - for day 122 - Flow

I sit and let words
come to me and then flow out
like water like sky

Me at USC as CLI guest speaker


Uraeus. School. Errands.

It's 7:06 pm and I'm at home. I've been running around all day with Uraeus getting things ready for school. We are progressing smoothly. Also made a run to Long Beach this morning to take my mother to car repair shop. Then rushed to Santa Monica. It's been a run around day. It started with a story though. One I want to develop.

A man was crossing the street on Washington and LaBrea and was seemingly antagonizing some of the cars turning left in front of him. Screaming and kicking at them as if they were the enemies. When he got across the street he yelled with what could have been all of his force, "Shit, I'm hungry!"

I felt that scream in my bones. That scream from a black man who by appearance could have been kin to me. Shit, I'm hungry! I don't know that kind of hunger but I felt him. It wasn't until now that I'm present to the fact that I heard a man yell like that and didn't feed him. I do take responsibility. It was my job because I heard him.

But I wasn't focused on him at the moment. I was trying to turn left without getting hit. I was wondering if I was going to be in Long Beach to my mother before my conference call at noon. I was concerned about traffic. About my day. I confess.

As I sit in my comfortable home and remember the brother's pain I'm thinking about how often we are focused on ourselves. Ourselves. While a man is hungry and in pain enough to scream in the street. Bless us all. God, please bless us all.

Monday, June 1, 2015

Class. Uraeus. New chapter.

It's 4:16 pm on Monday and I am parked on some street near USC preparing for class. I'm also the class guest for tonight. Hiram called me last night and asked if I would do it and I agreed. It works out. It works out because I am behind on my class fees and tonight's pay will cover a month. It also works because the space to read my work is good. I was introduced to this class last year when I was the class guest. Both the audience and experience were great. It is weird a little to be the guest in a class I already attend. But whatever. I'm happy about it. As I am happy about this day.

This morning, my mother, Uraeus and I went to College to register Uraeus. It went well. We even went to the bookstore because my mother wanted a t-shirt. She didn't get one, but Uraeus got a cap with the name of the school across.

This new chapter will be exciting, I expect. I love having him in my home every day. Our home. The space for conversations, the space for quiet, the space for redecorating and making new room, the space for new energy. For love and company. I don't have much, but whatever I have is his. But I do, I have much. I have much because I have so much love and patience. I have wisdom and talent and experience. I have words and poems and stories. I have God and prayers and angels. I have to remind myself. I have to keep reminding myself.