“The white fathers told us, I think therefore I am; and the black mothers in each of us-the poet- whispers in our dreams, I feel therefore I can be free” —Audre Lorde, from Poetry is Not a Luxury
I aim to write a series of poems centered on the real and imagined landscapes of Chicago. While poetry isn’t often thought of as news, poems, more than anything, describe the truth of the world around us. While truth can come out of diligent and factual reporting, it can also be revealed by a few honest words that intimately and imaginatively give language to the unseeable pain and joy present in Chicago. There is so much more to Chicago than the fact of it and its events, there are universes of feelings that come out of the landscape we live in that break the bounds of reality.
growing up is best black lonely i am almost twenty i dont want to get on the L right now met four people i don’t like in a row they got freckles road trips to idaho a major in the sciences 1:21 am i got some wine and a good view of complicated young ass motherfuckers from my window all slit eyes teeth shit faced ungrateful 9/11 was two days ago they wouldn’t know but i saw something on the TV long walk home air mattress says hello
broke fan says hello how many times i say i be getting old and alex still dont like
the pics and hands still empty cept this laptop hemp oil
machete ring of milk