Before

My mother’s fuzzy silhouette rises, / Tells me to go back to sleep.



RECENTLY PUBLISHED


Cycles

Another brown body
hits the dust, / and our cries
dance,


Origin Stories

My black is a story of night and day.
My black is a story of mud and clay.


photo of barbed wire with a foggy field and trees in the background

Auntie Assata

We know revolution is a thorn studded fruit tree fenced in barbed wire painted to look like roses.