Don’t let the memoirs
of your life
become the journey you
wish you’d taken
No matter how far inland
the air is sugar.
Savor it’s sweetness.

Let the soul gather trinkets,
while there’s still time.
Create your own republic.
Let the moonlight follow you.
Find your huckleberry friend.

Lie down in the tweed of him
Love the wool of him.
Take refuge in the heat
Even if one day it becomes a
spectacular tragedy of ruins.
Believe love isn’t just a conspiracy
There’s always more waiting
around the bend.

After all the poet ask
How many hours do we have
to feel beautiful, to be alive?

-Tosha Michelle



Tonight I surrender everything
I have left undone to the wind
broken promises, letters I wrote,
but never sent, almost loves,
lost loves, regret. No questions.
Why or how no longer matter
They’ve been used up by yesterday.
Some just hallucinations
along my misguided way.

I’ve lingered too long in bramble
My skin marred by briars
Looking to find my way out
by the light of others eyes.
Hoping someone would decipher
the hidden shapes of my soul.

Alone with the begotten shadows,
iilluminated by the moon
I find clarity. The answer in release..
In letting go, I become lighter
Besotted with the fever of liberation.
A lomg time gone now
I find myself.
I am free.

-Tosha Michelle

Misguided Ghosts

Sometimes everything is rhetorical
Everything is monochrome
My limbs wracked with rain
I tread gingerly.
I make promises I may not keep
Go on with my soltuide,
my soliloquy.
I’m almost out of words.
Knowing you cannot grasp
what you cannot hold
Things vanish all the time
And what is only left of me, is
me only.

-Tosha Michelle

Upon Viewing The World

We’re all in the dark
and it’s not early
Maybe not too late
We sleep in narrow beds
in rooms shimmering
and burning from a sickhearted
The stars reflect a defective hue.
We long for a powerful eclipse
or for a comet to appear.
Angels feet on fire.

Thinking our world is woven
by the fragile string of fate.
We waste the moonlight.
Gazing at static air.

-Tosha Michelle


Sometimes we have to
carry what we can and
discard the rest. I’ve
been talking inventory
of my life, trying to
decide what to leave
in, what to leave out.
My back sore from
the weighted
backpack of other
people’s burden I
lug around. I’m
cutting insanity from
my life with no written
apology. I’m burning
bridges so drama
can’t follow me home.

There are people I can’t
live without. People who
litter their bedroom’s floor
with clothes and always
forget where they put
their keys.

I do my best to give them
my time. I give them my right
not what’s left.

Tonight I say a prayer to
the God of humanity, to
give me people I can
love and dispense hope
and the courage not to
wish away my plea.

Tosha Michelle


I may never go home again
My new lover likes to
feed me cake
and serves iced
champagne for breakfast.

He clothes me in himself
and says I wear him well

I wonder if he knows
I would go anywhere
with him
Even if we had to live
on pocket change
and the tic tacs
in my purse

At night we lie in bed
and make soulful art
He traces his name
on my body in heavy script
And I paint his concrete
city with graffiti

Afterwards, we lay
heart upon heart
and he beguiles me
with stories
of ancient mariners.
and sanguine times
I marvel at his semantic fusion

In the morning, he wakes me
with soft kisses
before he goes to work
I always link my fingers
with his
as we say goodbye
Two branches entwined

I hesitate to let him go.
Fearful there will come a time
when I wake up and find that
Michelangelo has left the chapel

And I’ll wonder
if I imagined him,
and he imagined me,
until there is nothing
left just paint splattered
dreams, the tragedy of a moment lost, an a anthem of some place we’ve never been.

Tosha Michelle