the funk is percussive that Loud smell it
through the phone stain teeth brown
‘Cause he knew ninety-five would be his last year / ‘Cause ghosts live in his backyard
In December, a white woman entered our poet-of-color space. The year before too... Nothing is neutral and ahistorical.
Many thanks to the Tulsa Artist Fellowship for providing the space to work on this project and the platform to present the idea.
Sincerest gratitude to Fine Arts Work Center for giving me the time and space to discover and blueprint this project.