songs we learnedto hate our selvesin schoolwe learnt to hatethe color of me in songswe learntto hatethe sheepwhose fleece was white as snow
Tag Archives: poem
dispatch from the hill
the people are beautiful, interesting, hardworking, tired. the city is aliveshimmering tightly wound ‘round itself like a heart bump, the walls closing in and we all remark what a lovely day it is. what a lovely lovely day it really is
Done Wrong Blues
i want to cry in your armsi want to feel your simple charmsi don’t care what you dojust want to be with youi need to feel some warmth at nightcuz babe i get such fright you hear the daily newscan only send you into bluesi feel the way i always didlet my loneliness cocoon meandContinue reading “Done Wrong Blues”
ends versus means
every body is an end in itself meaningwe are not hereto profit we are not hereto exploitwe are not here to sufferwe are hereto walk this shining earth
howling out
come back to me?you sound just like a dog who buried her bone and don’t know where she putit only to seea tree blooming aboneshard blossomonly then will you know your mistake
An Interview with Audre Lorde
“And working with Black students, working with students who really questioned and caused, forced me to question what we were doing, how did we move, and what was the place, for instance, of our writing, of our poetry? And I came to see, first to feel, then to see, and then to share the factContinue reading “An Interview with Audre Lorde”
Discourse on the Logic of Language
English is a foreign anguish.
Review of Reviews
Why can’t you just talk about yr favorite parts? Always false concern. You didn’t make it. Make it new: “Quotation is a sign of humility.” Falsetto stains yr voice. Careful now. “But yr so lovely when yr delicate.” I’m so not. “But isn’t it sweet to try.” I don’t follow.
Aida Rends 