American Chestnut The American chestnut is long gone, that doesn’t stop me from hoping in its thunderous limbs. I’m compassion; I’m not compassion. It’s all clinging to thinkings, like: how I think someone how I think I should be. This is the me that pisses; this is the me that reads Buddhist psychology; this is …

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She Awoke in Twenty-one Parts She awoke naked. She awoke breathless. She awoke with Winston licking her face then barking. She awoke wet. She awoke sweating. She awoke simmering in her own hot bath. She awoke alone. She awoke hung over. She awoke with a stranger’s tongue, dry and fuzzy. She awoke fighting. She awoke …

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Skinned A family can survive major pruning. The loss of parent, grandparent, child. However, a family tree can’t survive without its bark. The stripping away of my childhood’s outer layer. The intentional toughing up routines backfired, thinning the skin until raw and every word or touch burned like a bare light socket sunk into my …

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Silence Fifty years plus, silenced & caged. To write is to free the golden finch, imprisoned at eight, by a man’s filthy hands, reaching where claws don’t belong. The golden finch’s songs ruptures the cage & silence’s song. © SB Joy, 2021 What song has trauma silenced in you? SBJ

Greedy Hands Angel in bright white night gown Soiled, smudged from your earthly visit, Trapped in the trauma of a little boy Raped by his mother’s man. You can’t unsee, that dirt, that stain, It doesn’t come clean, the bile Of man’s defiling greedy hands Shoveling himself inside a little boy. © SB Joy Image …

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Crumb I have a hard time telling differences. Like the difference between a crumb or a loaf. A feast or morsel.  I’ve fallen for the same trick since birth. A sleight of hand and a hopeful imagination itching to pull a loaf out of a crumb? You see, what’s obvious to you isn’t to me. …

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