Small Talk

It’s an interesting feeling. Learning you’ve spent months falling for someone who could actually have never loved you back. One of those, “huh.” moments.

I’m over here feeling myself out, talking to my emotions like,

“Yo… are we good? Cuz I feel fine. But I don’t want you coming back here in like, six months messing my shit all up. Talking about ‘missing them’ or ‘broken hearts’ or whatever. Like, I’m feeling good…so…we good?”

And it feels like they’re just looking at me like,

“Yeah. Ok. Have you MET us? Good luck kiddo.”

Solving for F


My brain has been ticking for months

got me feeling like math class,

pulling my gum, twisting it around my finger

eyes fixed on the page, staring at the problem,

body cemented in angsty agony

praying for the bell to ring

so I can put it aside for another day

begging the universe for more time

to try figure out how to solve for F

Freedom or Facism


freedom from facism

How do I balance the equation?

Got me like Taraji in Hidden Figures

up on that ladder

skirt leaning while I sway

I need me a computer

in the form of all those brilliant

rad and mad woc who got us to space

I need to accept that computer is the way to soar

Yeah, I think that is a metaphor

We’ve got to teach us how

to break these chains and fly

We be how we solve for F

Computing, how to Fuck this Shit all the way Up.

On being black in white spaces

It eats at you, little by little
Tries to peel you open and gnaw at the core of what makes you human

Tries to gnaw at the core of what makes you magic

What makes you sing from that space of history and ancestry and truth

That feeling that makes your body hum as music rises up from your gut, around your heart and out your soulful lips

You sing to elevate the spirit and carry the soul to the heights it was formed to go

You let your blackness radiate in heavy, shining waves around you

Deterring anyone who might think to tear you down, who might think to make you feel small

Sometimes you falter

Sometimes you get afraid. You get tired

You let them tear at you, peel you open

Grab your guts and show them to you. Like they weren’t just ripped out from your own stomach

And then you wake up, you come to

You get hugged by a tall woman with long, dark twists that graze lazily across her back, skin smooth and the color of chestnuts

She holds you to her chest and whispers that you are a god, you are powerful

You are magic

She reminds you to shine, to burn bright

She reminds you that you need radical love, and radical honesty

She reminds you that fire hums in the pit of your stomach

You remember that you forgot to love yourself, appreciate yourself

Trust yourself.

You remember what it feels like to blaze

Blood Letting

Lets talk about 

Blackness and 

Blood and 

How often they go 

hand in hand

Blood being shed 

in streets

Blood being spilled 

at birth

blood being let 

in sorrow

Blood though, 

Our blood 

Is the oil that fuels 


Holds our magic

And it courses 

Through us 

Setting off eruptions 

As it goes 


I ripped up the photo of us

I took it off my altar last week

 I don’t know if I regret it

Ripping it, I mean

I can always print another,

If I want

The pieces landed on my guitar

I don’t think it was intentional

I was feeling petty and small and

Just a little bit trite

I can’t tell if I miss you

I’ve rebuilt the wall around my heart

Only concerning you, and a few other


I think it’s going to take me a minute

To come to terms with losing you

I had high hopes for us

My childish view of love and 

Relationships shining through 

I don’t want to have to say goodbye

To be conquered by fate and truths

Too harsh to be faced together

It’s important for us, it would seem,

To divide and conquer

Fate has other plans for us

Maybe we’ll get drunk together one night and

She’ll whisper them in my ear

Explain to me why we came together

Only to fall apart



The StoneCarver

I imagine you covered in dust

soft stone breaking in your hands

as you chip away at it, carve your soul into it

light shines through your hair and

dances in your eyes

playing shadows across your face and

along walls, telling a story

you shape that story into the stone

and, just maybe, a bit of your own

in your heart I think

this is where you’re home.