Poetry & Fiction

Mirror I am white, I can feed silence. My children can breathe, though the air’s fetid with fear extinguished Black men shared. Who will keen for them? Outrage must be boots on blood-stained streets. Can you hear each victim’s last words echo? Each victim’s last words echo. Boots on blood-stained streets – can you hear … Read more

Don’t play around the course he got the took the rook the crook the snook all were pasted upon him like a long vicious learning there is all of Africa all of night all the every trace of sweet hurt distilled like cobalt turned into night the distant moon a door to where no one … Read more