All the men I loved were dead
-beats by birthright or so the legend
went. The ledger said three
out of every four of us was
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Praise Song for the Table in the Cafeteria Where All the Black Boys Sat Together during A Block, Laughing Too Loudly
What is this nonpower at the heart of power? —Jacques Derrida Already have an account? Log in Join KR for even more to read. Sign up for a free account […]
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As you are both Malcolm’s shadow & the black unknownhe died defending, I praiseyour untold potential, the possibleworlds you hold within your body’sbladed frame. I love how you stand Already […]
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