No great poet has ever been afraid of being himself. I became a writer like most do, by unlocking the wonder that is reading. Eight-year-old Caleb opened Pandora’s box and found the power of words—creation, destruction, love, and pain. I needed to feel that power for myself. I picked up the pen and produced stories … Continue reading Becoming The Negro Artist: A Conversation with Langston Hughes
The music woke something in him. The booming bass caused his body to bounce in ways the African drums once did his ancestors. The rhythm sent his soul into the dance of freedom. His shoulders relaxed, his head bobbed to the beat, his arms began to sign an ancient language, his legs began to shake … Continue reading Fuck Me
Sophia’s feet dangled off the stool next to the counter as she sipped her orange soda and listened to her dad on the couch whisper princess to Meredith’s mountain of a stomach. The summer sun splashed through the blinds and landed on the new white linen couch, not the old, ripped leather couch that Sophia … Continue reading Punch the Whole World
You think your body is Meant to be metaphor, Broken into bits Scattered across pages, Irresponsible poets play with you. You look in the mirror And see your smile as a simile, Remembering you are only Like something. Like beautiful. Like appreciated. Like loved. Stuck wondering what it feels like to Be. Your lungs are … Continue reading To the Girl Who Wants to Be a Poem
The Seatbelt: Securing oneself into a seatbelt is the first step to safety. When the metal clicks, it is a commitment to staying in that car. But when we shared our first kiss in the rain, hidden between cars in the parking lot behind the school, we weren’t concerned with commitment. I had a girlfriend, … Continue reading Driving Love
Do you remember saying I love you? You were seventeen; I was fifteen. It was a month into our relationship and I had fallen for you the way most love stories start—head first and unprepared. I was mesmerized by your subtle smirks and goofy giggles. You had the type of confidence I wanted to recreate … Continue reading How Could I Forget?
Have you ever imagined your death? I don’t mean the dream where you pass away peacefully in your sleep because of old age—push past that. If your life was going to end, what problem, what pain, what power would end your life? For me, it was tornadoes. I’m not sure why, but I always knew … Continue reading Killer Tornado
It started from pain.