Went to town and got chased back to the farm by a wall of black clouds as tall as the sky. A mountain of darkness in the sky, boiling, growing, falling in around itself, surging upwards, a great black skull of cloud.
Driving down 4th, people were getting out of their cars to stand and take…
Roxane Gay in "What Zadie Smith Taught Roxane Gay: Identity Is Drag" (via britticisms)
when you lie awake in the evenings
counting your birthdays
turn the blood that clots on your tongue
into poems. poems.
—Lucille Clifton, from “The Message of Thelma Sayles”
my darling mother,
death is life.
—Lucille Clifton, from “The Message of Jo”