Where poetry and stories collide.



Marie is…(poem)

I 'm a first generation American, The child of immigrants from Caribbean shores. I'm honest, though prone to filter to save people's feelings. I'm loyal and I wish more people could reciprocate that. I'm either hot or cold for people.... Continue Reading →

Flexin’ Sundays (microfiction)

Sundays were for flexin', the day for showing off your Sunday best. Your best shoes, clothes, hair freshly pressed or afro fluffed to perfection.  Sure, they were there for church; but no one said you couldn't shine a little on... Continue Reading →

Lost Tribes (prose)

Homeless. Lacking of identity, Can't be classified as Other, Cocooned under the umbrella of Black. Not Caribbean enough to be Caribbean, Or so my family reminds me. I am a direct descendant. First generation- Once removed from home. Not African... Continue Reading →

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