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A Fist Full of Tears
A kid sits at the spitsplit from the family(with no idea of the convorunning rampant behind him) hepicks up two stickscontemplates his next dig,lines in the sand draw the perfect …
Connecting Dots
*** (a poem) *** white finger tips press over bumps smears orange dust on Forgotten Road red circles are Family Camps in Nature they move on together Black History gone …
