October 2011
14 posts
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“When race and ethnicity become commodified as resources for pleasure, the...”
– bell hooks
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The Cold Green Element At the end of the garden walk the wind and its satellite wait for me; their meaning I will not know until I go there, but the black-hatted undertaker who, passing, saw my heart beating in the grass, is also going there. Hi, I tell him, a great squall in the Pacific blew a dead poet out of the water, Crowds depart daily to see it, and return with grimaces and...
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