Decolonization in Progress
I have held in the thunderclouds of cuss words and the finger that wants to point somewhere to crucify the
I remember things from long ago
I have held in the thunderclouds of cuss words and the finger that wants to point somewhere to crucify the
Where does the darkness go when it leaves you? Sometimes I wonder if it follows just behind your shadow waiting
Mama said he was born with a hard line for a mouth. He was curious as a child but laughter