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Articles by Thylias Moss
Botanical Fanaticism by Thylias Moss
My ancestors weren’t hippies, cotton precluded fascination with flowers. I don’t remember communes, I remember ghettos. The riots were real, not products of hallucinogens. Free love had been at Redbones since black unemployment and credit saturation. The white women my mother cleaned for didn’t notice she had changed. I guess it was a small event, a resurrected African jumping out the gap in her front teeth. I guess it looked like a cockroach; that’s what she was supposed to have, not dignity.
A Poetic Look At Martin Luther King, Jr. And His Legacy
Ahead of Martin Luther King Jr. Day — which is observed on Jan. 21 this year — poet Richard Blanco shared some of his favorite works engaging with King's life and legacy. Blanco is the nation's fifth presidential inaugural poet and author, most recently, of the collaboration "Boundaries." Blanco read his poem "St. Louis: Prayer Before Dawn," which discusses the social, political and economic disparities between two St. Louis neighborhoods, one predominantly white, and one predominantly black.
Snow Days by Steph (also Stephen and Stephanie) Burt
Snow got you down? Maybe poetry can help—or, at the least, if you live in the part of the United States pummeled by snowstorms over the past few weeks, maybe the poets can bring you back to aspects of snow that aren’t about plows or school closings. “Snow is to water what poetry is to prose,” writes the historian Bernard Mergen in Snow in America.
The Subculture of the Wrongfully Accused by Thylias Moss
Ultimately improved by it: slant light hitting his prison obliquely near the state bird’s pointed head accentuated crest, the black-ringed bill from which wheat-wheat-wheat-wheat from which whoit cheer, whoit cheer; cheer- cheer-cheer inspired Ronald Cotton to listen as in his head, the solitary cardinal indulged in snails which seemed like polished fossils of trophy hog tails (after prize butchery) that Ronald was able to recall, his hair a mess of replicas of them as industrious as the...
The Glory Prelude
This is the Glory Prelude to a widow shrine system I was raised to be forever convinced that Glory was the prelude to everything though I don’t mean the same thing by Glory that my mother did, that my mother does.
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