Publication Update

A poem of mine titled (de)materialize has been published by Glasgow Review of Books. Follow the link and my poem is the third/last poem on the page. If you love them poem, please share this post – or if you have an account you can reblog it on tumblr.

Thanks everyone for your continued support!

Poem of the Month | March


I fill the backstage with cobwebbed footwork,
dressed like a dead end and painted for performance –
I fill the backstage with a glare, I pop the top
of a can of coke as a leather jacket fondles me
with faded tattoos and the adhesive hands
of a Brit who swears across stadiums

everyone ignores the intercom

call back the bastard with a gold tooth,
call back the black man with a flute,
call back the peapods who sing chorus,
call back the cartoon who doesn’t belong,

who sits next to me in shadows of dust
with a packet of skittles and visine
for eyerolls – the cartoon watches
horror on his phone, the peapods
pretend they’re the star, the black man
never plays off tune, the bastard
doesn’t know the words to songs he wrote
about his version of me,

though I’m clearly tired and dissatisfied

as cartoon whispers we should leave
and take a cab to Benihana.

Poem of the Month | January


If a woman wants to vanish                   she can
Abolish the fetish of skin, to skin, to skin
Contact                dematerialize a softened puff
That sterilizes her lips, fingernails spreading fig &
47 pages of advertisements in Vogue

3 articles               about how to make a man happy
Men                       are never happy
Women                 are never happy

Every piece of clothing is black, the coffee is black, the
Leather is black, the hair is black, the models aren’t allowed to be
“Too black”, tattoos all in black, epiphanies in black and subject

to change.

There must be a goldmine down there between our thighs
several men have been jailed for connecting their
hands to their eyes… & responding with
resentment when we can’t help
but reciprocate with contempt

The last time I tried to love someone, the ice cream truck
Grew fists                my heart grew weaker                nothing &
no one
Came to warn me about being monopolized by trust, and
Hope, the vanity of holding hands                 not waking up alone

No one warned me that being in love meant being a void.

Writers Update

I am very stoked to announce that one of my fan favourite poems (de)materialize has been accepted for publication in the Glasgow Review of Books. The poem should be featured in the upcoming months. When I know more, I will make sure to update all of you!

Also, I wanted to apologize to everyone for being behind on the publication of my book Black Brooklyn, Bad Baby. The book itself is completed, but due to my work schedule I have not had quite enough time to get it together so to speak. Hopefully that will be ready soon.

Thanks everyone for the support!



Seneca B.

Featured Poem | December


I live in venerable skin of temple, fermented and collapsing,
damned and haunted by the eradication of how all at once
you existed
alabaster emblem coughing and leaving earthquakes
along the potholes and sidewalk weeds,

you snuff the paparazzi,
pelicans and pecans invading chin and belly – a bellow
of monologue stampeding the ball of your fist like Capote
and priest, empty pizza trays lodged like lust
inside the pockets of your cheeks, decaying teeth

as one by one you lost sunrise and moon in Cancer,
baritone and cocoa barrage, the alphabet of erotic timing
comforted by squirrels under sleepy hollow banks,

the way you suckled on woven fabric in a farmhouse –  

I authored my worth from how stiff your bones became
when your fingers were plump and turned air to plums,
and I puckered my strep throat to siphon your life like maple
from stumpy legs that knotted roots with the libertine,

I did everything to deserve how traumatic this all became.

Featured Poem | November

I’m Living the Dream

why am I so calm at 3 a.m.?
my eyes blink once for each passing hour
and a threesome left to rotten out the back of my eyelids,
left to impregnate the hunger turning my bones to cinder

outside, she dyes blonde and mauve, like spring
pressed to her lips – while I’m ambushed by sheets
that she’s touched, and held hostage to a tongue
hell bent on fabricating fables to soften the tension

my mouth cannot take the weight anymore

I scratch out little pieces of death that rivet through my pores,
I roam, but make no sound, I don’t come out, I’m a hotel key
that’s passed around

I’m living the dream, I’m living the dream, I’m living the dream

she has gold curling in her throat, curdle me
and spit me out towards the end of the hallway
where I lie awake with smoke in my hair and
melodrama melting these locked doors

manipulate me, please.

I am where I’ve always wanted to be,
I’m living the dream, I’m living the dream, I’m living the dream

Featured Poem | October

Disturb the Universe

i disturb the universe
with mouths that martyr; sunken,
sullen, carbonated crowns
too heavy to carry me to temple

i spy, with my wandering eye, wicked
my lovers first plague
my Sumerian womb
draped like an apron        and the dumb wonder
who divorced the globe and tapped their tongue
to the itching voice of hunger plucking persons
to mature their multiplicity in the sky

                do you taste a nova now?
someone’s brain trapped in an art piece like a
cranberry cough-lozenge liberating
the parietal lobe,

stalked of ferns and wildfire,
full of October time that shifts
like gravity with precision and
scatters your breastbone like matter

i don’t dare to date the age i recognize,

i dare, to get lost and let my heartbone break
and be put into song and translated to canvas,

i disturb the universe, but who
has disrupted my history?

Featured Poem | September

Final Game

we were married       and no one knew,
seven stacks of pancakes versus a german chocolate cake
by midnight, and a long cool woman in a black dress

mostly echo. mostly vermont maple siphoned from barns, mostly
the high end of your hand absorbing my chin, from pucker to pucker
a name lost on pickled taste buds

still kept. waiting. waiting. waiting for me to cry
from an overflowing, full mouth. I outlasted
the feminine fragments of my youth,

           in bitterness, I survived

the final game of scattergories and blouses
stained in Swedish fish – I populated like orchestra
only to maintain the taste of you       a commitment
without sonnet or spectacle       bing cherry red Crosby
my vowels on a bulletin board in a retired apartment
and my ages
wasted       wanting
someone who wanted the same two weeks too late

               a pelican and history engulfed in afterlife

we were married       and no one knew


Publication Update


My poem The Defeat of Sophia has been published and featured on for anyone interested. Please feel free to like and share the poem from the publishers site. 

Also, I encourage anyone looking for places to publish to seek them out for an opportunity. They publish some inspiring written pieces as well as beautiful custom made art to go with those pieces they choose to publish.

Thank you all for your support. There is more to come soon!!


Seneca B.

Featured Poem | August

I Live in a Vision

come steep, come shroud
like your mouth       I turn to prunes
decay claymation sprawled from
the back of my throat towards each earlobe

           I live in a vision.  

we don’t taste. we don’t die.
we don’t flip up our lids and
rollback our eyes; I live in a vision

where my palms converge to touch filtered light
and to live within a body sounds like your grandfathers
cane dragging across the linoleum —hoarding a cigarette,
a baseball cap, a bald head, a red chevy cavalier that
your sister got pregnant in because she manifested
Juniper and sighed until she was touched

           I wish you knew me now.

satisfied with feminine skin     alone love in axiom
an entire casket of a person feeling pregnant with neon soul

separate from stomping leaves and moldy soda mugs,
stealing watercolors and hiding journals at the top of a tree,
drinking half & half like milk and pretending I was dead in the grass,

I wish you knew me now.
I live in a vision.  

Featured Poem | July


We took turns exchanging earthquakes in the bathroom
               Kiss me, New Mexico – the tattoo of el diablo
               Spanning her back, knocking on strangers doors
               Because every house looks the same
Silhouette Sophia, a gold dust turned flush when the sky
Parodies the value that paints her mouth

               A placental abruption / one stanza memorized
From the bible, only spoken in Spanish and congregated like a
Love poem passing from one fingerprint to the next

It’s written all over her freckles, a constellation fish and cheap cerveza
Accented with finger-sucking Tajin she transfers to my mouth; no one
Knew she could play the cello, or liked to break into her fathers
House and steal his shoes – out of spite, she never finished anything
Other than an orgasm        but her vocals were versatile and hum like lush gossip

I saw things I’ve never seen again – a crescent moon waist with doubts
and disability, abandoned and palpitating, 102 degrees of afterglow,

                       She still smells like her grandmothers kitchen.

Featured Poem | June

I am stuck in your skin

I am stuck in your skin.

It all stops when I look at you, I am
whittled down into fractions & sea foam,
your limp eyes, a focal folly of submission
and desperation caught hiding in the way you stare
through sums of aphasiac tongues

I negate your abuse : you neglect my negation
Treat guilt like a marriage proposal, in sickness
not health
You’re richer, and for poorer I rent fables
til’ death do us part
like atoms, the breath of matter split
in the space
between the determination on your face and
my inability to look away

Your whites are wet with the intention
to love me until I understand

                        you will let this kill you