Undividual Poet


Creative Writing

spiced orange

the drink

warm and slightly citrus,
sweet and mildly spiced,
a mocha diva
in love with country ballads
picked from a large tree
in an open field near Senatobia
and given immortality,
being turned into a drink

but how sweet was she
in her former life?
there was a smokey tinge:
did she roll her own cigars?
was her father a coal miner?
left with the same questions
as a kid too hungry
to fully enjoy the film
her friend’s mom took her to;
too modest to do anything
but eat when she gets home


El Shiitake

Bryon Boi

some say
i am a melinated god
house of the stardust dressing the cosmos
hailing from an alien domain
that i am the seed of earth lovers
with peace pipes
and frybread
that my kind was nasty
loving neanderthals
created in ancient labs
born of cave shadows
that i am a byproduct of rape
as a partner of genocide
babylonian captivity
i say
i could be part treefrog
mixed with sugar
and a little styrofoam
by any other name
i’d still be the shit

city boy

in this city
i was sun blinded
for cursing the clouds

in contempt of the rain
i died of thirst
never seeing the sea
make love to the shore

bad words

even love
bad words
in the hands of the most clever
with pedestals and no earth to be down to

dirty mirror

i didn’t know i was
until i touched you
you didn’t know you were still
until i held you
and told you to breathe
we had been looking at ourselves
through a dirty mirror
this whole time

stay black

brotha told me about the beauty
and atrocity
living in Nigeria
dapped me up like
“stay black”
kept it pushin
i’m left with the back of his taper fade walking way

…what does that mean…

let me superglue some midnight to the
front side of my backhand
so the black land and the black light
hold hands with no stage fright
of being shown it’s wrong or right

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