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I’m done with magic and prayer / done believing Armstrong leaped across the moon done preaching about some renaissance in Harlem / 10 black boys died in 7 days whole basketball game of dead said the paper / and we’ll never know what all this means for poetry or blues singers on Lenox Avenue / never feel the thump inside our throats / I’m done with voting and politics / done paying student loans and taxes / done with black aesthetic conversations / yesterday I watched my father’s body percolate like an earthquake had started in him / watched him reach for hooch like a hand / and I’ll never know what all this means for poetry or moaning pianos / never know the optimism a young poet in Harlem must’ve danced |
SELECTIONS FROM OF RIVERS APPEAR IN VOLUME 49.3
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CURRENT ISSUE
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CONTACT
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DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH
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