Again, Fanon’s words come to mind: “The town belonging to the colonized people . . . the native town, the Negro village, the medina, the reservation, is a place of ill fame, peopled by men of evil repute. They are born there, it matters little where or how; they die there, it matters not where, nor how.”
Read More the bouncer of my road house heart
my wild Johnny
the first man i thought to love
I don’t know mainly how
to save myself from my
words: I would want them
all, alive and well, or at
once, all at once, burning.