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The Hybrid | Poems


no longer civilian.
windswept aftermath slapped
over dry bone. ring of saturn lambs
caught in greed collapse. poached
vertebrae into liquid pore.
steal songs
bloated tribe children,

has a date.


the walk

i must give blood today. the walk

there. a defiant furnace flinging
rays of sun like floods
during a three mile uphill heave
as blue hues hover
over my green leafed halo;
since the sidewalk in which i step
separates an ascended sea of leaves
providing shade, but
can’t protect from sweat
or short of breath. the walk

back. the same—i collapse
like an empty sack.



After Jericho Brown

From barbershop to Nordstroms
And all as a curious passenger
He’d speak curled English
And tell stories of home as a boy from
Congo. I was free at first, a gift, a mini
Vacation from an Austin rush hour. If anyone,
I should have known
I who love to immerse that I must
Be happy having just went to Burundi
I want to ask
Have you ever been a slave,
The working kind—the best slave
Is an abbreviated beast.
He who seeks escape from the scarred body
And opens his skull
Trying to get out.
Or at least this is how I came to understand
Songolo’s scuffed bitter virtue.



almost forgotten.
i use almost like i would a last
wish knowing not a name for
carousels dizzy foreplay & overlap
last night was a dream
i hope.
i use hope like i should a lung
winged fiends milk folded
empty bodies behind bars
wanting to wake.
i use wake like i would a river
safe from an absence


First Time A Boy Attempts To Be A Father

(A Flash Nonfiction)

My daughter calls you Dad.
My first born: —
My only joy.
I must accept it
        Or die
Laughing at the irony
I once was you.
A man.                Really a boy
Happening life
And found a girl.                A mother.
A mother of two boys I’d love.
She’d share stories of broken cherries
By her father.                Her own father: —
No parts of her he didn’t glitch.
I’d encourage. Like you, I’d encourage.
No love from the victimized
Only possession.
The girl gets pregnant.
A boy: — my only.
Miscarriage. Distance. Sneaky
Sex in the guest room
During which she’d express
She hates me. I’d say I know
Should I stop. She’d say no.
Pregnant again. Delivered
Beautiful’s tangible twin: —
My only joy.
Manhood half moon
Daddy even so.                A daddy.
Daddy unbottled
By a boy.


Poems (c) The Hybrid
Image: Jr Korpa on Unsplash

The Hybrid
The Hybrid
Poetic thought with an imported wardrobe.

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