Black folk, who are dear folk, who took Christ’s most potent hook, words to heart, to serve a brother, a mother, a cousin, a cook, a kook, a
Why can’t we say no more? We of the Constitution, of oblation, King Kong, if you look at his balls, his clit, his labor long, as if a subtle madness, but what is more real than hairs down below, a ball for a ball, a hair for a hair, a love for a love,
A curl for a curl, or a somehow squeezing out some love for those coming up, as butter cup, or a chance flower, understanding the sun.
Spam of Human Affection 
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