THE SMART TRICK OF EPOCH POETRY THAT NOBODY IS DISCUSSING

Black is the color of my minor brother’s mind, the grey streaks in my mom’s hair. Black is the color of my yellow cousin’s smile, the scards on my neighbor’s wrinkled confront……we go to fulfill the realization of makers understanding who we have been …figuring out the way to Reside, and what lifetime is… …we must spin through our