Undividual Poet


June 2016


Nubia, based on art by oneoffkritik via

is it okay that i’m a mess when i see you
that i’m infatuated with your chocolate skin
signature curveage
lips full of promise
the way it moves in a sundress
before i get your name?
is it okay
for me to be in love with you
just for being a black woman?
is it off balance
to worship the smell of cocoa and shea
how they rub into my face
when i lay in the softness
of your cheeks?
to wish we knew what tribe
your ancestors grew your roots from
find that land
kiss it
give thanks for stretch marks
in the right places
nature’s tattoos
telling the eye what is real?
can i thirst to
drop my anchor in the depths of you
to swim in your soul
because you are a black woman?
is it fine that
i’m not as deep as i will be?
that your walk is
the sexiest thing about you
to a man concerned with carriage
who prefers sex in the light
your face unmade?
that i look to you
and find reasons for the earth to turn
the sun to shine
the moon to reflect it?
can i be undividual in my singular effort
to make space in every part of you
for me?
will you let me love you
black woman?



after earth-ish

i turn the tv off
put my phone on vibrate
get bucket nekked
eat a kale salad with pumpkin seeds
lay on the floor
daydream of the grass and sand
touched by human’s feet
but not it’s ambition
not for a lack of balance
i don’t channel silence
to combat an excess of noise and movement
not the rhythm and vibrado of life
i just miss the way it used to be
how pure the oceans were
before we made them highways
how true the air would breathe
until we priced it
how rich the crust of earth was
when it was enough
the way things used to be


Granny Mode

sour old grannies are like
make everything still
everything quiet and clean
much more enjoyable
scooped up
mashed into balls
and thrown at each other
or rolled down a hill

the fuzzikins

big boi the cat

my shadow
is an orange creamsicle
an overweight stalker
part time yoga pose creator
he is a light sleeper
laser chaser extraordinaire
furry zen master
a fat ninja
with a tripartite kryptonite composite of
garbage trucks
and a handy man named juan
he is part baby tiger
part sumo wrestler
able to maintain impressive skills
by taking naps and eating snacks
to meow in seven languages
and sing in eleven
he is
the fuzzikins

newis, a freestyle

in love again

had an idea in my head
saw this going differently
meant to stay in the bed
not wake up where niggas be
wake up where meant to be
open up to meant to see
picture me
soul is my only internal organ
shores of my mind hold it together
with sea salt and beach sand
the middle passage between asleep and awake
sacred to prophets with no home in either land
who rest well in rare realms
in different dimensions
where death is not even a skipped beat for transition
good and evil are light things
the natural is the right thing
the actual is enlightening
a nameless lewis stitched together
by cosmic love and interstellar music


Saxophone Love

the first time i heard jazz
city lights played from a credenza radio
i was wooed by the saxophone
and the blues guitar stole my heart
the first time i felt betrayed by an adult
you taught me to use scissors
watched me cut the cord to the phone
mom talked on in the kitchen
she came to bring the pain
you laid on the sofa
and i climbed behind your legs
hoping you would be my defence
instead you said
you couldn’t help me
the first time i was proud to be irish
you told me the story of a man who
stole cows to feed the block
took lives to avenge his own
ran monroe with a lumber company
gave you a last name
and me a grandmother

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