Not what he felt like, but what I felt.
Brer Rabbit on the tar-covered scarecrow.
the world’s edges wrap tightly around you
I am speaking from the small world that curates me.
A sentence unfurls to find itself surprised by itself.
A glance cuts into another glance.
Risk what the bee risks.
Our hands were scars and tears.
To invent a language that names something other than violence is also the work of difference.
An image can be an entanglement or an acknowledgment, not a memory.
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