June WILL be my Bitch.
To the women who think that in order to be beautiful they need a man to tell...
I say I’m almost ready I call him awfully nice He calls me a paradox. ...– Because Words Are For Playing With (and Hearts Too)
There is no record of the sounds you made, no catalog of sighs I might flip...– From “WHAT I KNOW SO FAR” by Karen Dietrich
Seven Items in Jason Reynolds’ Jacket Pocket, Two... →
It won’t make you laugh. You won’t be happy you read it. It might even make you feel a little worse after reading it. You should read it anyway.
What If My Father Were a Poet? by Amye Archer
I imagine breakfast he and I ordering the eggs- gelatinous yolks, pregnant with possibilities, plopped atop their white rubbery volcano. Our sandpaper toast brushing the membrane igniting the slow motion eruption of hot yellow magma running rapidly through the hash browns. We would laugh in iambic pentameter at the puns and alliterations on the breakfast menu at Denny’s- The Fabulous...