When I was younger, visiting my aunt’s house was an adventure.
Tag: Duppy Thursday
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 . . .
Adela sits at her desk in the Kingston parliament building, which looks like a Moorish palace. . .
I held a glass of champagne in my hand and stood alone under the dark night sky. . .
It used to be so. Playing dead to catch Corbeau alive. Every day started with the Our Father.
Featured: Black Interest
- Song for Night
- Bronx Biannual: The Literary Journal of Urbane Urban Literature
- Mr. Loverman
- Trinidad Noir
- Not for Everyday Use
- The Duppy
- A History of the African-American People (Proposed) by Strom Thurmond, as told to Percival Everett & James Kincaid (A Novel)
- The White House
- HNIC (limited edition signed package)
- Gathering of Waters