Chanting, chanting, chanting like singing wafts into the den. With it, the fragrance of fresh cut flowers, incense, and fish frying in the kitchen. For the next half hour, Wayne […]
THIRTY-THREE THOUSAND FEET
The burnt rusted wreckage of crumbling
hills fills canyons with the rub of time […]
Coffled, tortured, stowed like spoons, cartage of Middle Passage.
Factories, then barracoons, breakage of Middle Passage. […]
An eco-sensitive minimalist, he tagged his targets
on oversized Post-it notes. Cops could never make […]