The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
in memory of Eleanor Bumpers Call out the colored girlsand the ones who call themselves Blackand the ones who hate the word niggerand the ones who are very pale Who will count the big fleshy womenthe grandmother weighing 22 stonewith…
In Arlesheimthe solstice smelled like hair pomadethe mooncaught between warm and foreverI dream of Alice Walkerher tears on my shoulderbut I cannot see her facedark women painted clay paledash in and out of laughterclay in their eyes in their earsaround…
What do we want from each other after we have told our storiesdo we wantto be healed do we wantmossy quiet stealing over our scars do we wantthe powerful unfrightening sister who will make the pain go away mother’s voice…
One hundred and fifty million truth seekers at the trough of the evening news arteries bumping and writhing against Pik Botha’s belly a keg of soundand how does it feelto bury this baby you nursed for a year weighing less…
to Blanche For the days when the coffee grounds refuse to settle and the last toothpick rolls into a crack on the floor and all the telephone messages are from enemies or for other people onlyand the good old daysliebetween…
Leaving leaving the bridged water beneaththe red sands of South Beachsilhouette houses sliding off the horizon oh love, if I become angerfeel meholding you in my heart circling the concrete particulararcs of this journeylandscape of trialsnot to be lost in…
Is the alphabet responsible for the bookin which it is writtenthat makes me peevish and nasty and wish I were dumb again?We practiced drawing our letters digging into the top of the desk and old Sister Eymardrapped our knucklesuntil they…
In a hotel in Tashkentthe Latvian delegate from Riga was sucking his fishbonesas a Chukwu woman with hands as hot as mine caressed my knee beneath the dinner tableher slanted eyes were dark as seal furwe did not know each…
We flame the riverto keep the boat paths open your eyes eat my shadow at the light line touchlesscompleting each other’s needto yearnto settle into hunger facelessa waning moon.Plucking desirefrom my palmslike the firehairs of a cactusI know this appetite…
We arrived at my mother’s island to find your mother’s name in the stone we did not need to go to the graveyard for affirmationour own genealogiesthe language of childhood wars.Two old dark womenin the back of the Belmont lorrybound…