I don't know what you've
heard about poets...

I keep thinking about you,
I keep thinking about your country...

I want to talk about love,
about all the times...

I do not think of myself as
a poet anymore though...

First they told me that I was lucky,
I wasn't a woman in the Dominican Republic...

Maria did warn me once,
with all the love between her teeth...

Its the vulnerability that comes when you realize...
I was another girl once, and I didn't truly like...

I miss who I was when I loved you, a roaring heart...

She says she
doesn't remember...

I know its hard to talk about women who raise...
When I go to my friend's house...

I once liked a black boy and
the thought of race wouldn't leave me alone. I...

Its for the days the city ignores you so hard you...
I guess what I'm meaning to say is that sometimes...