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Young Professionals

Starving

Starving

Starving  the Indian in me spares no expense with words every sentence decked in red and gold every phrase clanging like the silver bells tied around the necks of cows tethered to stakes the Indian in me is the master of flamboyance every stanza bursting with...
Away From

Away From

Away From I come across to what I hate seeing so much Disgusts me to remember that I thought I wasn’t enough I think that I need more and more, plenty But they don’t have much other than others company Walked outside to the city, new country, poverty For the first...
An Ode to Women of Color

An Ode to Women of Color

Skin of Soil Nature’s first vision is brown  her first awakening upon the nascent earth,  a blur of tawny and bronze  and walnut and wheat.   Nature’s first memory is soil  spilling from the ends  of her matted mane,  spilling into empty oceans,  filling a...
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