Black is the color of my tiny brother’s brain, the gray streaks in my mom’s hair. Black is the colour of my yellow cousin’s smile, the scards upon my neighbor’s wrinkled confront…is a means of saying the reality that hurts with a snicker, a means of capping on (shutting up) an individual. Receiving even chatting bout people today’s mamm
In our significantly disposable culture, poetry waves the flag of permanence. It musters memory towards the onslaughts of ephemera.As you are able to see, each line sales opportunities up into the cap, the final one particular. And the last statement is predicated on the reality that all Blacks know.of Black writers has at any time utilized it as b
Black is the colour of my very little brother’s head, the grey streaks in my mom’s hair. Black is the colour of my yellow cousin’s smile, the scards upon my neighbor’s wrinkled deal with…C. Michael Curtis, a senior editor in the Atlantic Monthly, explained he considers Epoch "one of the prime literary magazines within the region concernin