REVEEN KENNEDY,

a Brooklyn, NY native, is an English undergraduate student navigating life at

the University at Buffalo

through poetry’s

reflective and

experimental
forms.

Color Journal

i.

Today I am slate. Blue but grey. I am sinking sad and lonely but I am not dead. I am hurting but

no one has explicitly hurt me. I have a fermented cry and no one to hold me. I’m spicy grey, I’m

blue with a kick. Fuck. I went to the gym and had a trash forty minutes I sat in their presence but

I didn’t feel present I listened to mama say something about another I swore I

Today I am slate.

 

ii.

This morning I am Flame. My breath can’t seem to stop and my insides won’t simmer down. The inside of my cheek is raw BITE, fingerpads white SCRATCH

my foot won’t stop bouncing think I need to empty what’s in my sock. Think I need to empty

what’s in my brain in my whole fucking body. I don’t wanna be disruptive but my episode is just

that. Water gushes out drowning the sound of me emptying my insides. 

 

iii.

This wednesday morning I am tuscan sun An open window does a lot for me. Wakes me up with

a big sloppy fat kiss from the sun (we’re old pals) A peaceful wake-up, getting ready in motion,

making ginger and lemon tea. Its a contacts day. That’s that intention, only five minutes late I

definitely nailed it,

 

iv.

Yesterday I was mauve. Not the one of melancholy, but the one of maturity. A strong refreshing

love sat in my soul, strong from the ab circuit I did and me bouncing on my toes and singing to

my phone and anyone with ears to listen. Not even him picking at the same topic inciting the

same argument can make me less mauve. It takes a return to childhood to feel this mature

 

v.

Today I am robins egg blue like the kind in the crayon box. I am shading and filling these parts

of my life today. I stepped forward with the girl of grace and the girl that glowed

I think it’s called being friendly, open, kind. I might color outside the lines yet another time.

 

vi.

Today again I am carob. The brown of the earth the spirit of self and the love for life. Please

plant my flowers and harvest them while I’m here to see the sun kiss them and watch as lilies

open. he tells the story of the beginning through song and I am finally full.

NAME Magazine UNIVERSITY AT BUFFALO 2020