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a cento for the revolution

6/19/2020

 
the whole world went crazy
because the “Negroes” were coming down the street
devouring light

from want of bread, of pride, of dignity, 
of our liberation. 
​

this is our audacity--
to learn to pronounce freedom,
for the brittle body to rearrange itself,
with all the power, 
against all hope.
​
​

(credit for lines used listed below)

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Oenothera biennis

6/16/2020

 
The Evening Primrose blooms only at night. 
She unfolds dusky yellow petals
in an embrace and, 
if you ask, 

She will tell you the moon
has been lonely; busy peeling
her craters open for a taste
of warmth from the sun. 
Her moans have become melancholic--

"How solitary my existence, 
with only the babbling brook 
​and hooting owl 
for company. Oh!
What a wretched existence is this!"

She turns her face from that
which adores her. She is
drowning in self-pity, 
teeter-tottering about her
axis as if she is the only
body in this universe. 

joy

6/8/2020

 
joy is exodus
a travel-weary journey
​these psalms unending

curley's wife

6/4/2020

 
and what shall i do with my leftovers?
these crumbs attract naught be mice, roaches
and men—all the same, just as well. 
if given the chance i am sure
​i could grow to stomach you instead. 
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