in an instant world of tweets, texts and technological innovation the art and practice of good old-fashioned letter writing have disappeared.
I’m so West Side I remember when it felt like it was “us” against the world.
Brotherhood. That understands “we” are in this together. That we are not enemies. That Father Time will soon sift us all.
Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. President. Unless you’re talking about sending us some federal love rather than your federal whipping stick.
I have come to see all good things — tangible and visible — as gifts that linger with us only for a season.
And this narrative riddled with alternative facts that amounts to lies.
You are dark-skinned beautiful. African daughters and sons of the original man. Melanin-infused by the Creator’s hand.