Featured Image: Jeremy Bishop All we have are our words. We must use them precisely as we whittle together from the bark of the honorable already gone trees.
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reclaim your voice.
Featured Image: Jeremy Bishop All we have are our words. We must use them precisely as we whittle together from the bark of the honorable already gone trees.
Read MoreKiss me like you are grateful for me. That I exist. Not because I am special, no. My flesh and blood are alive, now on this planet. I chose you to heal me. I trust\ed you to embrace that honor you promised you would. Kiss me like you want me, not want to want me;…
Read Morecreated by Bryanna Wallace & Autumn Gupta Choose how much time you have each day to become more informed as step one to becoming an active ally to the black community. On this document are links to the learning resources and a schedule of what to do each day. Click on the following to…
Read MoreFeatured Artwork: Stuart M. Buck at the bottom end of the mouth tube sphincter held in place. like an ancient book of rules for the white cotton masters, this puppeteer, once again {tho never started nor stopped} pulls strings…
Read MoreFeatured Image: Wall Street Journal Hurt you – lying? think not. sure, I mean, what? – not batter lids. silent! – fair, battered lids: drip true does not mean, what? sure, true – for me, never you.
Read MoreFeatured Image: Kevin Lamarque for Reuters Their beds, the center of our universe, seeded only a few years back. In their lumens, a silent thunder of embodied bickering — a rare storm for such tender tributaries. Inflamed tempers. Regretful tendernesses. The fairytale ending of nightmares naked-faced protestors blindly write. inspiration: “15 Children Are Hospitalized With…
Read MoreLike ghosts of lands once stolen from ashes dust the thresholds of new beginnings — the end of what was that which we never knew to be still. __ Featured Image via Lenny Miles
Read MoreWhen do unattended-to childhood patterns Turn away from shame and Toward intentional tools of destruction Requiring only a whispered demand to be handed the bleeding heart’s supply They count on your sadness to Fill their bottomless cup of gladness And before you know it You’ve been punched in the eye Swallowing excuses, like in generations…
Read MoreI never really bought into the mythical “falling” into love. I believe in the mystical “rising” into love. The fairy dust of ancestral work. The initial dopamine seed hooks into dirt. The slow growth of oxytocin filled fibrous roots. Beauty grows, oxygen rises in the breath of The never-ending kiss of Heaven and Earth. We…
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