Prayer Mat
I want to cut it out of me This ember stitched behind my ribs
Blab it, who do we become after this poem ends
Hey That lanky smile on your face
The playground is a battlefield
I am looking for a poet to tell my story I am looking for a poet
Self portrait as a doorway
You will change Like how the moon forgets its name each morning
Crossing the bar
After my father died I tried to die too
It blooms like peonies
You are a boy with no voice Yet you keep speaking upon us