WHEN THE WORD EXHAUSTING JUST DOESN'T FEEL RIGHT, I GET PEN AND PAPER AND BEGIN TO WRITE. BLACK TAR ELEGY Tap tap tap. Keys move—now they’re still. Drizzling words, hollow, haggard, and shrill. Crestfallen, woe-begotten, it’s that time again, when paper and pen write—goodbye—to yet another black friend. Black tar babies born to black mothers, beaten and chained by friendly white “brothers”. To quell the pain, anguish, and sorrow, I’ll tell my tar babies the tale of tomorrow. For now a fake Yoel our stories overheard, and wrote our tar babies with his monstrous words. Black tar babies come into time and space. The minute they enter that’s when you give chase. Lock them in cages and mine them for powers. Parrot their phrases and subtract their hours. The giant bald eagle Narcissus, his name. Cursed now to worship at his own altar of shame. Hollow his heart and violent his collar, murdering tar babies for the almighty dollar. And yet it is you, my dying black ...
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