I suppose I should’ve listened to my Gramoon when she scolded me with her old sayings.
Tag: Duppy Thursday
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.
Just as Steadroy finish mek up he bed under de Big Head, smadee call he name . . .
Featured: Black Interest
- New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set (Tano)
- Eight New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set
- The Necessary Hunger
- Loving Donovan
- Frederick Douglass in Brooklyn
- Praise Song for the Butterflies
- Caught Up
- Hadriana in All My Dreams
- Bronx Biannual: The Literary Journal of Urbane Urban Literature
- A Simple Distance
- A History of the African-American People (Proposed) by Strom Thurmond, as told to Percival Everett & James Kincaid (A Novel)
- Nowhere Is a Place