Take up the blood from the grass, sun. …
Henry Dumas
First there was the earth in my mouth. It was there like a running stream, the July fever sweating the delirium of August, and the green buckling under the sun. The taste of sick dust ran in the currents of saliva which I heaved up and tried to picture when all the people would curse their own stinking guts and die. No. I am not wishing that everyone should die. Nor am I wishing that everyone should be still. Only I am squeezing out the steam in me. …
lay sixteen bales down in front on the plank …
my ole man took me to the fulton fish market …
Beloved, …
Vodu green clinching his waist, …
Up …
I …