You’re supposed to be the littlest. You were yesterday.
Granted, my three year old daughter looks adorable in Afro-Puffs.
The coyote pups have got bold, come right beside the porch near sundown. Gives me someone to talk to, I suppose.
The September he started first grade, my son cried every morning.
From the starting gun, the 400-meter dash looked all wrong.
The homework assignment was simple; make something to do with transportation.
Detective Owen Newlin stashed the stolen LaSalle in the alley behind the Colonnade apartment house and climbed the fire escape, which rose through an open air shaft.
“I dew wheat.” I never knew the power of words until my two year old asked to “do it.” Those two little words sent dread flying through my body.
Featured: Black Interest
- So Many Islands: Stories from the Caribbean, Mediterranean, Indian, and Pacific Oceans
- Eight New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set
- New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set (Nne)
- Lagos Noir (Nigeria)
- The Half That’s Never Been Told: The Real-Life Reggae Adventures of Doctor Dread
- The Sexy Part of the Bible
- Bedrock Faith
- May Digit
- Anna In-Between
- To Funk and Die in LA