Your Tuesday poem: my dreams, my works, must wait till after hell by Gwendolyn Brooks theartdivas.com/2017/05/my-dre
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And reposting yesterday's poem: Descent by Ocean Vuong theartdivas.com/2017/05/descen
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And in this poem, The Golden Shovel, Terrance Hayes uses every word in We Real Cool to end his stanzas theartdivas.com/2014/11/the-go
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The Boy died in my alley
without my Having Known.
Policeman said, next morning,
"Apparently died Alone."
theartdivas.com/2015/12/the-bo
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