Ten Aches

  • a heart evokes the feeling
  • feeling the letters out like braille
  • letters conjugate into words
  • words my mouth cannot find
  • the pen is my mouthpiece
  • yet you can’t hear me
  • over the harps and cathedral bells
  • so I’ll continue to write until you feel my words
  • through your eyes, to your ears
  • lift my heart, drink my tears.
  • © S E U Nx


    With the children on fire, they danced unabashed, such as a poised origami crane in flight. We could have put out their passion, but there was great beauty watching flames dance on quiet children. The horns and percussion played on. As we rushed the stage, we shared in the flames, all for the sense of fame and the echoes of our ardent names.

    © S E U Nx

    Serial Number

                  Manufactured and assembled in Africa. Shipped abroad, westbound yet bound in the ruins of former preordained glories. Fields of dreams were fields of cotton, against the contrast of my ever darkening skin.

         Red flesh exposed from the lashes my back knew so well and so intimately, as if lip fell upon lip in romantic embrace, yet in this case whip welt against and ripped, we the product of the Atlantic exchange.

         What used to be my dark skin revealed a universal linked pink hue, God’s signature on man’s body. So as we uprose and rebelled, we yelled and exclaimed, “skin the master, we are all the same!”

         And indeed we were, for God’s signature was deep in him as well. Slowly skinned and hung for our treason, God’s once magnificent canvas became the carcass of the crows. Withered rose petals in fraternity with cotton bolls and between the nexus of life and death, roll Jordan roll was being wept…in song.

    © S E U Nx