Sing to me of Bronzeville, the Black Metropolis. A Northern tree whose Southern roots, having suckled at the Mississippi, were weaned on Eerie waters. Whose branches bear ice and Christmas lights and strange fruit. Sing to me of autumn leaves…
She told me to give her twenty minutes so I went back to the bar, picked up my fourth – or maybe fifth – drink, and waited for the crowd to break up a bit. The artist, Jean Deaux, known…
Black life is “surreal.” A word often synonymous with “dreamlike.” How apt a description. Like the sweetest dream, Blackness is a state of ethereal beauty and bliss. On the best, Blackest days, it’s like sleepwalking through a promised land of…
Guest Author: Arthur Haynes Arthur Haynes is a Black fiction writer, feminist, backseat freestyler, and juris doctor. He is a student and enthusiast of all things creative. Much to his fiancée’s dismay, Arthur is fond of launching into hour long…
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