'…the do/you rhyme might be the most popular in pop music history. '
13 things my uncle told me before he died:
not everyone has the blessing to understand sadness
when waiting at the bus stop, it’s okay to smoke cigarettes
never touch anyone else’s clothes at the laundromat
it’s okay to miss the people who were bullets to you
when your grandmother asks you how you are, be honest
never be afraid to say “no” even after you’ve said “yes”
if someone tells you graffiti isn’t art, prove them wrong
remember people by their eye color not their clothes
you’re allowed to like dark chocolate with tangerines
don’t lie that you don’t have a lighter when you really do
turn your phone off every once in a while and find the moon
if you want a tattoo, don’t let anyone tell you not to get it
if you ever find yourself at the graveyard, read the names
Wanda Coleman, 67…died Friday…said her husband, poet Austin Straus…Coleman wrote more than 20 books, including novels and collections of short stories and essays…Coleman’s Mercurochrome (2001) was a finalist for the National Book Award…[she] was also a critic and…columnist for the Los Angeles Times, [her] scornful 2002 review of Maya Angelou’s A Song Flung Up to Heaven caused a tempest in the world of letters.
"…let’s face it, two hundred years ago, if I’d been born in Jamaica, I’d have been a slave. On the ‘one drop’ theory of racial purity, plantations in Jamaica had people working on them who looked like me…Does it make people think, actually, what is race, what does ‘black’ look like?” Lowe wants the child she is carrying to share the legacy of her father, although she’s still unsure how this will be communicated. Will it involve having to say something like, Oh, my dad was black? “For years and years and years I never said anything like that. It was in poetry that I got to make a claim.”
say: for our last outing
to Bars never before had we laughed
got drunk gripping tight
to the joke, it rained
smoke rings, jazz music, hedonism.
was hunger under silver cloches
this, a warm spell astounds
surely you muffled then:
“I just wanna cut and paste you
hold you, smell you, taste of you
is difficult to die
when you have a kind of gunk. Malignant.”
Blog, share, click, it’s important
to love and sign in,
log in, here’s your ass just for him.
more, from Rushda Rafeek’s ‘Anonymous Asked: What Is Dating Like in Sri Lanka? And For You?’
I come from a traditional family and I was taught to view the world metaphorically from a young age. Our physical world had to be attended to ceremoniously and often such ritual devices involved the act of ‘speaking’ a world into a balance. Words have power to transform or create a situation. It may seem superstitious to outsiders, but such respect and affection for language gave me an entrance into poetic understanding of the world and its consequences. Published poets out-number prose writers in my culture’s literary output. We seem to gravitate toward this form of translation and sharing of experience.
…black poets are far more likely to appear together in presumable black anthologies because they have little chance of getting into those general anthologies. Sure, big-name poets achieve cross-over appeal and appear in black and general anthologies. But by and large, African American poets are published in designated black spaces.