When Precious Jackson, a middle-aged Black woman …
Terrance Hayes
The country with the face of its mother …
I lock you in an American sonnet that is part prison, …
Inside me is a black-eyed animal …
Probably twilight makes blackness dangerous …
Why are you bugging me you stank minuscule husk …
Who I know knows why all those lush-boned worn-out girls are …
After dark, the bar full of women part of me loves—the part that stood …
Did your father come home after fighting …
I can imitate the spheres of the model’s body, her head, …
You are pursuing a feeling like the dust …
Even if you love the racket of ascension, …
I said Folk was dressed in Blues but hairier and hemped. …
Pretty soon the Negroes were looking to get paid. …
Handcuffed in daylight walking through air …
The dead were still singing Turn the lights down low …
If you subtract the minor losses, …
I. 1981 …
The rain falling on a night …
Broken Earth …
Dear Ol' Dirty Bastard: I too like it raw, …
I want to always sleep beneath a bright red blanket …
Zora Neal Hurston spent time …