Autumn Free Write

September 18, 2018

Good morning. I am thrashing. Tho still. For once possible perched on the sill and i gaze with the eyes at the backs of my head. Afro on fire and questions roaring. Here we are. Gated and hated. I heard people were still killing for difference. Woe. Every retreat from the cave rings echoes bellows insane in my brain and heart space. Devastated with the spoils of god dust. Have you remembered? Lately have i told you? Lately. The trees dance in Love but we cant hear. The plants flower in love but we only taste gorge ourselves on the death of other but we live with no acknowledgment of the sacrifice. Call it circle of life like we forgot what it was to be chained. Like D’jango and Shango just song titles and not the Ori among and among us all. Like everywhere ain’t ashé country. It is so. Today i lay calm. With the question of do i next years work ringing in my ears. Tell me why? Get myself hurt where? Thrashing. How good it feels to fly free. How good it feels to have home. Curiousness …

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Last updated May '20.

New York State,

Lenape to Mahican territory

and beyond.