“First fight. Then fiddle.”

We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan, Grayed in, and gray. “Dream” makes a giddy sound, not strong Like “rent,” “feeding a wife,” “satisfying a man.” –from Gwendolyn Brooks’s “kitchenette building” in “A Street in Bronzeville.” This May Day, I read Selected Poems of Gwendolyn Brooks over my oatmeal, before travelling around… Continue reading “First fight. Then fiddle.”

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