A closed window looks downon a dirty courtyard, and black peoplecall across or scream or walk acrossdefying physics in the stream of their willOur world is full of soundOur world is more lovely than anyone'stho we suffer, and kill each otherand sometimes fail to walk the airWe are beautiful peoplewith african imaginationsfull of masks and dances and swelling chantswith african eyes, and noses,
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