Body of Evidence: By Anthony Conwright: Your body is a temple Built on pillars of strength from both sides of … More
Ode to Jazz: By Anthony Conwright: I remember when I first saw her. A full figured hollow body, Breast warm … More
Ode to Wine By: Anthony Conwright Red Literature Burgundy thought pressed in wine Swallowed verse and pros Liquid that can … More
In my partner’s absence By: Anthony Conwright There are times in every couple, when time apart is necessary. But the … More
Where will I be if I don’t give you flowers? By: Anthony Conwright Where will I be if I … More
Artist formally known as self
Tattooing emotions of his former self
Carving colors onto his skin just to be stuck with them
Tracing deep between lines with stencils to see how much in depth within himself he can get.
Seeking the Peak in the Valley, Finding familiar footsteps silhouetted by the stars sighing above my shoulders, Whose shine is … More
Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming or star gazing
Looking up into the universe, trying to comprehend
Ideals like love, passion, humanity and where I fit in the mosaic portrait of life.
But that’s what it’s like for me being a poet.
My birth was your love letter to life.
I haven’t been able to fully read the language of your DNA
So I often times find myself crossing your T’s your and dotting your eyes with my own tears pregnant with your guilt and
Finishing sentences that you left as fragments for me to figure out and complete on my own.
And Sometimes I want to write back to you and say, “I miss you and I need you.”