Words — Philip Gabriel Steverson

PHILIP GABRIEL STEVERSON

A collection of words

embryo

cancer of the sweetest poisons,
caramel Georgian peach.
an aura as addictive –
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Howmuchdoesadollacost:whatcanthesememoriesbuyme

Weight of loveburdenbeauty [shortened]
𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚝
If someone gave me a nickel for my thoughts,
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I Love You; More When It’s Over

One who cries in the desert can weep for an eternity.
Apologies for your suffering due to my brokenness.
I acknowledge these words as worthless painted pennies, but we came into one another blinded by infatuation, guided by misconceptions of love. Babies, society would label us. **
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My Mother Told Me So

Two years ago, regret existed only as a foreign concept. Who could prepare for a reality so brutal: my mother’s spirit relieved of its physical form, leaving me to attach it to objects classified as relics.
Her annotated bible, a silver cross pendant, and a Michael Kors wristwatch.
Katherine Doraella Steverson (Kathy, Kat) noun. powerful, black woman: A warrior within a battle of mental and environmental chaos.An everlasting love.
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Open Note 25

Driving at 65 MPH on the I-10, listening to the remaster of Lonely Fire by Miles Davis—
A twenty minute vibe and an irony as the nights begin to chill
/commanding my hairs to attention,
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Silver Sanity

a Man, coated in bronze,
resides in a reality illuminated
under a cerulean sun.
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Those Nikes had to be From the 90s

Two women approached the door of my job and began to set down their plastic cups filled with clear liquids and half full tote bags. Two women, one black / one fair skinned, now seated in the main doorway criss-cross applesauce. The black woman has a black scarf wrapped around long, dark blonde hair holding a long green wallet in her hands, which I thought was a phone case at first. On her lap rests a horizontally creased, silver Extra gum wrapper, which she proceeds to put into her wallet.
I attempt to open the door to speak to them–
ask them if they can move from the front door.
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Citrus Sun

Before the sun touches the horizon,
I wake fully clothed —
Seeking fulfillment
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R.A.G.E.E

I’ve grown to understand that proximity is the key to affection.
That distance can be the antagonist of true love, yet
ironic that your love stretched continents.
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2:14 Poem

Nothing compares to the world
after midnight.
A strange place
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4:13 poem

Drowning beneath a sea of linen,
thick folds and body heat.
Perfectly in the spotlight
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Concrete front Door (Cento)

In our house lived three men with one name, and all three fought or ran.
They lie like stones and dare not shift. Even asleep, everyone hears in prison,
prison made of emerald & pennies
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Dreams from plastic juice boxes

As children, my sister and I dreamt that our entire family lived on the same block.
We dreamt, as children, on late nights over chip dust and Capri Suns,
that we’d attended the same schools as our cousins, eat meals from our grandmothers, and go to church as a family.
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Frostbite

Last night, I became the man of the house
white beater cupping my knees
hand me down hems rested upon exposed wood floors.
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Half Full

Enthralled by stainless steel doors reflecting hazel light,
and red beams that foretell my destination
as a path of paisley carpets
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i don’t know how to write poetry anymore

Closing my eyes I can still see the sun.
Soaking my eyelids with blends of
tangerine, pastel orange,
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Mother’s Eyes were Green, but Sometimes Brown

My mother and I wore the same size shoe.
when I would trade soles
out of rotation I would hear
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Off the Plane to Handle Business

Before now,
I considered myself knowledgeable on the expenses of funerals and burials
based on my Google searches.
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Open Note 12142022

Year One: Planted.
I have fallen in love with so many people during this time; heard their stories and watched them cry. Where do they go after the rain has dried? Planted at the same time; progressing at different rates.
most times, i believe that i feel harder than others.
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Open Note 89-98

In this note, we talk our shit.
Shit shit sHit; a word I am trying to eliminate from my vocabulary. For now, fuck that shit.
It feels good to unfollow people that I have lost connection with. The pressure of my thumb, heavy, against my freshly, disinfected phone, turning that button from gray to blue.
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Rain in July

Rain fell in perfect sequence this July.
Opening my mind to breathe in
it’s blissful scent, cradling me away
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Reveries of Children Living in Blue

As children, Da’Nae and I dreamt that the entire family lived on the same block.
We dreamt, as children, on late nights over chip dust and Caprisuns,
that we’d attended the same schools as our cousins,
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Untitled(28)

Concrete cracks within its foundation
as time passes and lesions
become mundane.
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What some may call a Bodega

One time in fourth grade, I threatened to throw a chair at a girl who called me a gorilla. I was suspended, but I did not care about missing class, nor did I care about what my mother would think, but who she thought to punish me. Her ex-boyfriend, Harold, use to give me a choice
Head or gut
every time my sister and I
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Your Diamond Ring

Glass door chimed, my eyes
locked upon it’s beautiful.
Stars within a stone; who knew?
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Sugared Strawberries

Sugared Strawberries
December 13th, 1987
7:16 pm
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9 hours, 5 miles

I’m not sore. I’m not sore. I’m sore. I’m not sore. I’m not sore.
I’m not sore. I’M SORE. I’m sore. I’m not sore. I’m not sore.
I’m not sore. I’m not sore. I’m sore. I’m not sore. I’m not sore.
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9 of clubs

I’m
Not
Prideful
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CDG Cardigan

I wanted to write a poem today.
Nothing had come to mind and then
I thought about my clothes,
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Chips

There he sat, butt muscles to leather,
seemingly custom made to his skin after
hours of full glasses of brown liquor
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Dogs Days

Brightest nights produce the darkest moons.
Brisk airs tear through the 4 legged stare.
Algid spaces where the best seeds bloom
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Don’t Belong

Honeybees and food trucks.
Blueberry flavored pot-roasts.
Your hands around her thighs.
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If I lost a Best Friend

For the past year, my best friend has
been my cell phone.
Not for social media. I hate social media, but social media plays a part in why—
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Insurance

Wind chimes taped against
the beautiful brown chipped wood
frame that housed
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My Father is Your Father

The father of my being is the father of yours.
The planting of his seed constructed our doors,
leading to the obvious teachings
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Pocket Ball

Keep your pockets to your hands.
Off of the smooth, coconut skin
of that woman
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Poem Pink (29)

You’re being is compost
to all thoughts deemed sinful
You plant things in my mind
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Rough Week

And then some man; obviously taller than I
Had the nerve to stop me,
Hand me a flyer and say,
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Thoughts From a Notepad

I often think about the murders that occur when bedtimes stories are told.
Did it get old;
my rabbit foot dipped in gold.
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Thoughts From a Notepad 2

My thoughts call me too often,
telling me:
They think too much about the things tomorrow may bring.
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Thoughts From a Notepad 3

Will I live to plant my seeds in
this tainted soil we call Earth?
Will I live to introduce them to the air
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Tweets as Thoughts

Freshman year of college
I was introduced Tinder;
she left me too.
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Shelby

I had lost touch with comfort until
I met you; the sense returning
to my fingertips.
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Alive

You’ve been there through thick and thin.
Releasing messages from the ink in my pen.
Who are you, to which i depend?
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What Happened In 72 Hours

Hour 1
A boy followed a sign that lead
him to an uncharted garden of his opposite.
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