Dear Sewanee, I can still hear the referee’s whistle blowing when the coach called timeout. My teeth still vibrate as I remember the...

I’m sorry, but my pain doesn’t walk the cadence drummed by the calloused hands of the clock

Each time I encounter one such as these my perspective swings upward and I realize how present my God really is.

I am the Judas that betrayed you yet I refuse to hang myself.

Stars twinkle in the nursery of darkness as night’s rhyme barely reaches my window.

I’m a rainbow of ethnic reigns built from generational clouds.

My ethnological adaptation was impaled by subatomic disease.

That which was desirable leaves my taste buds salted from glaciers swimming on my faith.

Your perception of self and the dreams that you stifle causes your strength to become irrelevant and your wisdom to dance with fools.