Haiku by Diedra Horne Being the ruler of ram Bleeds from my soul Makes my walk elites Thanks to guest poet and technologist Diedra Horne who took part in the haiku writing workshop I facilitated for HOPE Project D.C. Learn more about HOPE Project here.
She did not know to engage in such things would leave everything familiar flailing, everything worthy slapping itself against stucco walls and memories. How could she have? Rooms like these stitch their own lips shut, hold their beaten secrets close, squeeze bits of breath and laughable hope into air packed tight with pain. No, this …
If I had to give myself a name, it would be laughter. That is what I do. I find things funny – or at least ironic. And then, I crack up. Everything can be turned on its head at least a couple of times, shaking the flakes in the snow globe. Go ahead. Make the …
Every second, you give up a little more, stare at the space between us, mumble one-word answers, refuse your favorite sandwich. I understand. It’s part of the sickness, part of what stitches our suffering together. No pill or doctor can cure us. So I sit with you as you empty the last bits of yourself …
I don’t know what you think of white, but tonight, I see azalea petals outdoing the dark, and I think, you know, I’d love to have a clothesline. Yes. I’d love to amble between shirts and sheets, get caught up in the touch of everything clean. I’d love to play Goddess, wrap myself in white, …
