Friday, March 9, 2012

I don't don't don't.

You can never help with your money. Money is dirty.
Money is worse than anything you have to give, which is a whole lot.

You can help with your voice and compassion and a little dignity wouldn't hurt.
You can help with your knowledge and your passion and your creativity.
And you can help with your stories because
who doesn't love a good story?

I don't want
your money.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012


I wish I could write beautiful poetry about
mac n' cheese from a box.

But I haven't the room in my stomach for

Get on this shiz.

And then if you don't click ----> HERE, then you a damn fool.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

I'm asking, now.

make eyes, little girl, make
at me.

make them stars so I may not
lose them in the over-bearing light
of day at times and
make them burn like
third-degree burns so I'll
never forget the feeling of them
on my skin.

make them that sweet poetry you speak so that
my palpitating heart can know what it's like to
stop mid-sentence and

(quietly, now)

make eyes, little girl, make