Why We March


Vigil for Safe and Sane Gun Laws at the NRA Headquarters in Fairfax, Virginia on December 14, 2017

On the eve of the March for our Lives, it’s worth remembering one of the many reasons we have to do this.



Upon Closer Inspection

Salgado Seven Suns
Andrew Salgado, Seven Suns

In the kitchen now coaxing life from zygote.
Onions thin as viscera, ginger membrane flayed,
a neglected melon split at the exact moment its flesh
matches the scent of the sun.

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Reading Beyond: Asali Solomon

Solomon Disgruntled

Disgruntled, Asali Solomon (2015)

Kenya Curtis is growing up in 1970’s Philadelphia with a dad who wants to seed a revolution and a mom who’s working to pay the rent. Her living room is the gathering place for the Seven Days, a collection of tired but dedicated survivors of the Civil Rights movement, fending of complacence and creeping towards middle age. Because she is the kid that celebrates Kwanzaa and can’t eat pepperoni pizza because of the pork, school is a place of derision that borders on shunning.

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In Defiance of Morning

Wangechi Mutu, Riding Death in my Sleep

You catalogue the early shames,
a tattoo on the lining of your lungs.
The mural leaves its stain despite the stretch
and growth you chart first on door frames
then belt notches
then monthly statements,
each unit of measure distorting the fresco
as much as the measurement taken.
Recognizable no matter the eons intervening,
the arcs of those stories.
crime scenes,

All tales have tongues.
They scour the natal down
from your heart. They leave a taste
like pennies and char.

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Reading Beyond: Hari Kunzru

Kunru White Tears

White Tears, Hari Kunzru (2017)

The book you open at the start of White Tears is not the same book you close. Through a series of subtle turns, Kunzru unravels the husk of a story only to twist those threads into a rope thick and stained with blood.

A pair of white college boys run headlong into each other by way of an obsessive affair with Delta blues and the antiquated technologies for playing and recording it. Carter is charismatic and stunningly rich, Seth is bumbling and mostly-poor. Both are cracking along the seams. History and madness start to leak from this fraught relationship, blurring the edges of reality and folding time in on itself.

The true nature of the story tantalizes from corners and memories. Ghost story? Murder mystery? Psychological thriller? Under the skin of a bromance narrative pounds a rageful heart. It is a story of hobbled promise, race and class violence, and America’s legacy of capitalizing on the incarceration of Black men. Kunzru dips into and then out of this fury, barely a splash at first then a little deeper, one unsettling shiver at a time.

The climax plunges us naked into the face of this nation’s most toxic and worst kept secret. The clash between what seems and what happened results in a feat of vengeance that satisfies the conditions of justice while upending any moral balance derived from it.

Image from Publisher’s Weekly