The quiet Revolution of being Black in America Where our bodies are always on auction blocks We are bought and sold for fragile egos Where our defiance is listed under justifiable homicide Justice is a word we don’t know and we are told to just go along Even when the police are hell-bent on violating… Continue reading The Quiet Revolution
Tag: Poetry
Sentence—for James Baldwin
The sentence, you said, must be pared to the bare bone. This was years after you left New York for Paris, $40 in your pocket, with ragged duffel bag of few clothing and early novel manuscripts you would lose crossing the Atlantic. You had to leave, you said, after your best friend jumped from the… Continue reading Sentence—for James Baldwin
strings attached
January 2007 (age 22) we had a tangled interaction some sort of twisted attraction and like a hemline i was taken in you stitched a quiltwork straight to my heart knowing i had to depart soon and these strings you stitched still attach me to you i tried my best to just do the homeylover… Continue reading strings attached
The Pursuit of Nappiness
Being aware of oneself is often unnerving Observing a culture so rich after so much pain Modifying yourself to be deserving When it is true beauty that is hoped to be attained Surviving torture and victimization, attacked relentlessly on all flanks Standing in the face of nearly certain death and recognizing it as a certainty… Continue reading The Pursuit of Nappiness
Playground Elegy
The first time I slid down a slide my mother told me to hold my hands towards the sky. Something about gravity, weight distribution, & feeling the air ripple through your fingers. I remember reaching the bottom, smile consuming half of my face, hands still in the air because I didn’t want it to stop.… Continue reading Playground Elegy