To the Once Enslaved of Morris Hall

I work for the ancestors. I have never worked for anybody else. Alice Walker To the Once Enslaved of Morris Hall: BlackberriesSweet blackberries and grass that smells of onionsWhere rivers cross by, carrying messagesTo the roots of the treesHere since the land was fertileAnd toiled. Here have set foot‘Scendents of yours

1 – Body

From the Numbered Collection Water-filled lungsDo not rise and fallBroken limbsWill falter beneath the weight of windCrippled fingers and swollen lipsWill make jagged edges of your touchAnd a bloody mess of your words, however well-intendedA mind reeling around itselfEating at its own fleshWill eventually decayAnd your thoughts will notSeep into the soilOr float to theContinue reading “1 – Body”