“why can’t life be written about as it is?”
A Love Poem's Responsibility
How to Build a Country for Black Girl(s)
Self Portrait
f*ck waiting for a day, this sankofic every-day!
buttermilk
“when West Africans were forcibly positioned for labor in the american south, their diets changed to a skimpy ration of salt pork, cornmeal, rice, lard, molasses, and greens (collard, mustard). these foods, low in nutritional value and often the scraps of the plantation, were transformed by those same Africans into what is now given the misnomer “southern food.” the shining feature in this cuisine being: fat.”
And
If I Must Write
“if i write a poem about the ancestors, must they be perfect? do they have to be exemplars of unflinching strength? do they have to fight? or could they be resting in the shade of their favorite trees? could they be weird like me? queer like me? strange like me? bad like me? dreamy like me? silly like me? just like me?”
