Bronx Poet

Grouping me with urban literature – That shelf is so miniature in the bookstore – What if I wanted to be more? What if I wanted more than just the Bronx  to read my book, more than women like me to take a look  and see what shook me,  took me away – Despite the

If my name is gunna be in your mouth, speak of me as I am.

Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely, but too well.    -Othello For the days I  wanted to flee from within the depths of me tell them before I’m six feet beneath and bones crushed, brain mush and worms wriggling