Is years I waiting for God to smile on me. And is years the devil pissing on me. Sometimes I think I is the orphan child of the both a them.
Tag: Duppy Thursday
I suppose I should’ve listened to my Gramoon when she scolded me with her old sayings.
Q: [tapping the photograph] Where’s the little girl? Where’s Anisa Quashie?
A: We do not know Anisa Quashie.
Kwapo can’t remember the words to the song, but it doesn’t matter. These days the show is strictly burlesque . . .
When I was younger, visiting my aunt’s house was an adventure.
Tommy was pointing out the sights of Montego Bay, shouting to be heard above the rumble of the boat’s engine as it navigated out of the crowded harbor, but Deb wasn’t listening…
As usual, Deadman has left me a car at the airport, and, for the first time since Irma hit, I bump along the rutted streets of Road Town.
Miss Meela wailed underneath her broad-brimmed hat as the pallbearers lowered the casket, carrying her young kin.
Featured: Black Interest
- God Carlos
- Trinidad Noir
- Bronx Biannual Issue No. 2: The Literary Journal of Urbane Urban Literature
- Nairobi Noir (Kenya)
- Tales of the Out & the Gone
- Lagos Noir (Nigeria)
- Climb: Taking Every Step with Conviction, Courage, and Calculated Risk to Achieve a Thriving Career and a Successful Life
- Caught Up
- New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set (Tatu)
- Black History Digit
- Bronx Biannual: The Literary Journal of Urbane Urban Literature