I see you in vivid color
Physical sensations transcend the body
Deep into your eyes, orange, and green
Grey and blue like a sea at night
And I light up like a supernova
Swimming in the you that sleeps beneath this skin
A fire inside, aching to be known
Hear me now
I’ve always known you
I finally see you
More beautiful than I could’ve guessed
More elaborate than I could hope to deserve
Where dimensions lose relevance, I find my other half

Significant Otherworldly

I tattoo your name on my tongue
To block the ghosts of fractions past
I swim immersed inside your light
Coming slowly push on me fast
Accepting what is always was
Chemicals celebrate what’s known
This wholly life, my god, my wife
Blue and red light easily shown
Here is my heart
Here are the strings
I see your scars
And I give you rings
That life within
Brighter than day
Colors begin
We’ll namaste
Lover, mother
Bigger than this
Child of peace
Put aside “Miss”
Old as sandskrit
Sans the Earthly
She’s from the stars
Those that birthed me

With Colors Rains Love

Some slow train passing in the night
Scars paint like fireflies in our skin
Reds and pinks color secret light
We are heeling now from within
Anywhere you sit on dry land
Everywhere I hope to be
Another track layed in dry sand
I’ll find you sitting next to me
This continent – so very wide
The Atlantic seems wider still
Soon you will find me by your side
These colors all promise you will
With this shared light we paint the world
Colors truer than dogmatic
Rains bring floods to these desert lands
Love breathes old life into the ground


I recently heard a friend make the claim that perspectives of the “white world” had inspired her to feel less attractive than she deserved. This beautiful woman of African descent said, as a child, she felt as though she were somehow less than because she didn’t look like the pretty “white” women on the covers of every fashion magazine. I do understand how an imbalance in power may see people of European dissent in positions of power and therefor catered to. Perhaps these wealthy “white” women more readily empathize with other women of European dissent. Or, perhaps it is just racism that inspires magazines to put a majority of models with European heritage on their covers. According to, 2017 was the first year Fashion magazines broke the 30% threshold for diversity on their covers ( It is sad to me that this is even a statistic. I suppose one could say the issue doesn’t matter to me only because I am “white”, a part of the “white world”. But I never chose to be a part of this “white world”. I certainly don’t want to be blamed for the fact that my friends of African dissent statistically have fewer chances than my friends of European dissent. But I am told that all “white” people are part of the problem. It is unfortunate that racism still exists. It is unfortunate that our country has had such a troubled history when it’s come to racial inequality. It seems so incredibly absurd that the color of a person’s skin works as means to generalize about him or her. I believe there is no “white world”. There are only people with unique perspectives as products of unique personal histories. It is true that some who look like me cling to the seemingly archaic perspective that a person’s skin color may determine his or her wealth. But I am an individual with my own ideas about things. Why must I be lumped in with people who continue to express ignorant perspectives? I don’t care that just under 70% of cover models are what society would call “white”. I do care if this statistic is the result of racial biases. Until recent years, I thought we were so much further as a society. Ironically, a power-shift on January 20th, 2017 seemed to call out to those of us with limited perspectives to come out from hiding, to openly express their ignorance. But this division only works to keep us oppressed. So we watch those who are given a stage and pick our side, forgetting that our opposition works to give credit to their ignorance. We must stop fighting with each other. It is only when we see past the stage that we can see the puppet-masters.