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      April 8, 2023SpeculativeWillie James King

      So, this is the New South
      where whites attend Parks’
      funeral in multitudes, yet
      send their own children to
      separate schools. She died
      in poverty, which means,
      she was poor in cents
      but rich in spirit. So don’t
      tell me about change, or
      how hard they are trying
      while racism wreaks havoc
      still, like AIDS, diabetes
      that kill; there’s no cure.
      Alabama ought to be our
      nation’s Athens now. Yet,
      most will want to avoid this.
      I’ll tell you, I am infused by
      so many different races I
      almost had all that’s African
      erased from me. Yes I want
      philosophy, and papillons
      in my poems, to focus on
      what’s wrong with our being
      in Iraq, without wondering
      as to who’s got my back.
      I would love to be far more
      speculative with syllogisms
      and not here writing about lies
      bigotry, or about what hate is.

      from #31 - Summer 2009

      Willie James King

      “I write only compelled to do so. Writing is hard, that is why I love it. Language is as difficult to control as any animal found in the deep, wild woods. They don’t conform. They hold to what they do best, no matter how we holler: Humanity! Humanity! And that is why I write; I might be able to speak not only for myself, but for those without a voice; or, who they think they are, etc.”