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Wednesday, June 25, 2008


used sex
to tell
the world
how fuckin
she was. A ravenous
girl, turned woman, turned junkie
turned mother,
turned out…

She used
her tits to
nurture the masses
feeding men who never
fed her back…

to her was
like some foreign
food, never tasted
lacking its
proper nutrients
lacking its
lactating mama
lacking its daddy's
its vagabond shoes...

Too many mouths
left unfed
too many cries
and bellies
left empty

She fucked
out of hunger
for affection
so she fucked
from an absence of

So she fucked
from a need
to feed every crack,
every crevice
every cranny,
every gash
left open
in her soul.

So she fucked
and they called her:

"A whore"

"A ho"

A “punta

as if *they*
were somehow


because the neon
of their hunger
didn’t show
so much.


By L.M. Ross

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Sometimes I Feel Like a Fatherless Child


Can you understand how
I roam alone now
In this urban
Like so many other
Direction-less trash-
Can boys?

In the uneasy noise of
My thoughts,
I sometimes feel as if
I am one of them,
Caught inside this
Whirlpool, this vast
Complexity of
Who I am
And how to be
A man...
How to cope
And how to make
This world
Take note of me.

The older I get
The more this
Child in me
Longs for
A bit more
Understanding. You

Were there
For me. You were
Not some habitual
Absentee or
Sperm donor cat...
But a dad,
Even in that distant
Strain of
Caught between


And ignorance... Not fully knowing
What a father should be...
Could be. Would be.

Curly gray afro,
A waft of cigar smoke and
A knitted brow that spoke
A thousand utterances...
This was what I knew most
Of you. I wished

You were more poet than
Provider... more the
Father confessor
Than insular figure,
More articulate
More generous with the wealth
Of your
Emotions. But
I've had to make do
With who and what
You were.

I am no longer
Seeking your
Approval nor
Your validation. I am no longer
Broken nor cut by
The blade of your silences.
I am no longer
An awkward slave to
Your curious nature.

I just sometimes miss
This touch-memory of
You embracing me.

No. No holiday
Will ever bring
That greeting
Card reanimates
What I've lost
Or what I lack... yet I am
Forever the son
Of a proud Virginia
Black man. The son

Who won the lottery...

A winning ticket of
Priceless lessons and
A treasure trove of memories
This fatherless child
Must now depend upon to
Sustain me.

Happy Father's Day, Da.

From your son, Lin