Just know when you sitting at my breakfast table having fun
Zora Neale Hurston, Audre Lorde, or Alice Walker
Would certainly be a better talker.
The last line of a long poem I recently wrote.
I've been slowly but surely making my way through Zora Neale Hurston's short stories. I bought this book in a local book store in San Francisco this past winter.
Hurston is a witch with language.
"The hours went by on their rusty ankles."
"God took pattern after a pine tree and built you noble."
"The sun, the hero of every day, the impersonal old man that beams as brightly on death as on birth, came up every morning and raced across the blue dome and dipped into the sea of fire every evening. Water ran down hill and birds nested."
I went to take photo booths with my little sister and get ice cream. Years of tradition. Years of love. Happy to be home.
