Sharp and graceful as a sword, she cuts her path through the veils and lies.
For Marsha P. (Pay It No Mind!) Johnson,
Love Poems for Billy Jack,
Thursday, 7:01 PM
There's hope. Our trials and tribulations have been voiced, we have liberation on word's wings, we can fly away from the cat's claws.
From the other world, still with mysteries, across the avenue, in the other building, on the other side of town.
SO YOU THINK THIS HOUSE IS BURNING?
rolling (her) my bugler
A strong slap in the face that shows you beautiful stars and maybe even a glimpse of the future.
Ann Siang Hill
Speaking more than words with the metaphors of our actions.
Aimless Existence in Unreality
Strung out in Valhalla
As if the words welled up from the deepest, barest roots of the Crescent City itself.