The rain stops now and I shake my head to fling the last drop off my big straw hat. It have a freezing trickle of water running down my arm, a silver ball escaping down to the tip of my finger. Forest rain does be like that: cold in the humidity, shining like hell when the light touch it . . .
It was hard to resist the lure of Miss Chantal. Her silky-smooth waist-length hair was as dark as her haunting round eyes, set a little too far apart in her heart-shaped face . . .
To celebrate the release of New-Generation African Poets (Tatu), a new limited-edition chapbook box set, we’re pleased to feature the introduction from editors Kwame Dawes and Chris Abani.
JR often watched TV with Grandma—either he would watch his cartoon or educational programs, or she would watch HGTV or a tattoo competition series . . .