I save my love for the thrown out flowers in Broadway dumpsters.
What if we all wore rainbow scarves like the eighty-year-old man in the alley by the Globe with popcorn kernel teeth and a first name that means Open.
This poem, The Window Speaks, reflects upon #BlackLivesMatter and the current state of America.
How we are still going places in our minds as well as remembering where we’ve been. This is how we’re traveling indoors.
Aggression and hustle in NYC turns into “ambition.”
This poem was written after visiting the Almudena Cathedral in Madrid, Spain.
Calamari fingers digging.
Love letters are like honey.
When a Swiss bus begs a water body to talk.
Some people think Amsterdam is a city of sin. But it is actually a city of freedom, and in freedom most people find sin.