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      September 1, 2022KaliforniaAndre D. Underwood

      She told me that she loved me.
      I was only 8 years old.
      She spoke of getting married
      After we were grown.
      We were both living at the shelter.
      The year was 2000.
      She was 14—
      Damn near a grown woman.
      She told me I was kind.
      She said that I was sweet.
      She told me those were the things
      That she loved most about me.
      I was so young;
      I was naive.
      Blinded through affection,
      I could not see.
      She only loved the feelings—
      Kalifornia never did love me.

      from #76 - Summer 2022

      Andre D. Underwood

      “I started writing poems back in 2005, because I needed a positive way to express my emotions. So I started channeling how I feel about everything. I channeled the pain, the happiness, the love, the disgust, the fear, and the joy. I wrote about girlfriends, my mom, my brother, my father, my sister, my baby mothers, my enemies, my friends … I even wrote about nature. Poetry is my outlet for my emotions, my freedom of expression—a place where I’m not bound by anything but free to spill my thoughts without consequences.”

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