Tuesday, December 13, 2016


At the Whitney Plantation in
Wallace, Louisiana, you cannot
hold your antebellum 'Gone
With the Wind' themed wedding 
at the 'great house' down the 
oak-lined path. All this will get
you instead is a walk through
the memorial yards of the enslaved,
those who lived there and those 
whose names and descendants and
African family lineages, were spread
throughout all of Louisiana. You'll
get to see the sleeping quarters, the
jail, and the kitchen. You can maybe
go into the big house through the
rear door. Where it's hard to breath.
I once had a friend who stole my 
poem. And stole the poems of some 
ancient Chinese guy too  -  under 
his own name. The scratch-ass high
school printed these lies in their
yearly 'literary' journal. I can't see
too much difference between that 
sort of theft and the same sort of 
theft that would heedlessly accept 
the claims of this old plantation's
glory days. It's all subjugation,
falsehood, filthy greed and death.
Emmet Till got killed for less  : 
Words always do such a good job.
When someone begins the lie,
the lies just continue on and on,
and he's still doing it today.
At the Whitney Plantation
you can hear the empty
wind. Maybe.
Just maybe.

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