August 2012
118 posts
blew. moon.
august again
did not expect mercy wall swallows what once was hope language in double talk wa half speak law of hearts dashed against rock did not expect compassion nor retribution for life nor redemption for love of women’s hands reaching shook earth of women wailing into lasting sky expected less than before swallowed a wall built nightly still expected more than history suheir hammad
“Three Days Ago I washed My troubles Away into the ocean. Everything I carried on...”
– cash
“nah worry bout biters, star. this style forged, this swag ironed, this heart...”
– bossa
his name in her (in)box
The imprisoned woman on the threshold dreams of the light senses it surrounding her along with names and clearings that go beyond colors. She plays with the light insatiable, morning-like and many-colored while rousing those who love one another calling up a memory of bonfires. She asks for a sliver of light demands light so as not to forget hands extended open free of sleeplessness and crimes...
“Teaching poetry this week to young writers and shared the diwan reading with...”
– victory reaches she
“come for me, habibi.”
– she
dreaming black august
am thinking on all the work dream hampton has done in service of this beast we love we call hip-hop. how many panels, articles, deadlines. the many racist ignorant questions she slayed, so many sexist undermining comments she transformed. the unsafe nights. am thinking on how many times she put her name wa life out in a hostile public to defend hip-hop. to translate it, to advocate for it, for us....
“a queen nah make a king, only recognize him.”
– s.o.s.
“the homey of homies. the honey of honeys. the holy of holies.”
– bossa
