Kiminou Knox is a ten-time published author, poet, athlete, speaker, podcast host, and youth advocate whose roots trace to the Oakland and East Palo Alto communities of California's San Francisco Bay Area.
His literary work explores faith, Black boyhood, masculinity, love, grief, healing, imagination, family, and legacy. Through poetry, storytelling, and personal reflection, Knox examines the complexities of human relationships, identity, emotional vulnerability, and personal growth.
Works:
His ten-book bibliography includes The Spirit of Solomon, Our Father?, Hopeless Romantic, Poems From a Black Boy, The Adventures of Kiminou the Great and Chua the Wise, Kiminou's World of Imagination: The Basics, Boys Raised by Silence, Black Boy Poems, Why Did You Ghost Me?, and My Father.
His poetry has also appeared in Emerald City Ghosts and Spare Parts Literary.
Beyond his writing, Knox is engaged in athletics, public speaking, podcasting, and youth advocacy. His work reflects an interest in personal expression, community, and the experiences that shape individual and collective identity.
Knox is also a contributing poet to Ink & Echo, the poetry and spoken-word literary initiative of Pyrrhic Press Publishing, where three of his poems are featured: Take Another One, God Ain't Watching, and there's someone who loves you.
At 2:11 a.m., the phone is still bright. The conversation is not.
For eleven days, Kiminou Knox sat in his kitchen refreshing a thread that had already gone quiet—forty or fifty checks some days, no fight to replay, no goodbye to argue with. Just a silence that kept its shape.
Why Did You Ghost Me follows that silence through five movements: Signal, Static, Left on Read, No Service, and Delivered. These poems keep the receipts—the weather texts, the jean jacket, the dying plant, the three blinking dots that never become a sentence. Some rhyme because grief still wants a pattern. Others refuse the clean ending the relationship never gave.
Then the question turns.
The person who was left becomes the person leaving. The wound changes hands. What begins as a search for closure becomes a harder confession about love, avoidance, memory, and the small cruelties people can commit while still believing they are protecting their peace.
This collection is for anyone who has refreshed a conversation that will never say anything back—and anyone honest enough to wonder whether they have ever been the silence on somebody else's screen.