The September he started first grade, my son cried every morning.
“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
- Praise Song for the Butterflies (SIGNED!)
- Around Harvard Square
- Bernice L. McFadden Digit
- Black Sheep Digit
- Confessions of a Ex-Doofus-ItchyFooted Mutha
- New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set (Nne)
- Addis Ababa Noir (Ethiopia)
- Pressure Makes Diamonds: Becoming the Woman I Pretended to Be
- Scars of the Soul Are Why Kids Wear Bandages When They Don’t Have Bruises
- Abstraktion und Einfühlung
- Bedrock Faith