Friday, March 17, 2006

63/365 David

David’s Virginian pedigree shows as he twists a Hayden poem until it suggests blacks have a lock on chronic anger and winter Sundays. Pointing to my childhood neighborhood (where African-Americans were the neighbors, not the help), I argue poverty is colorless; privilege less so.

1 Comments:

Blogger Deloney said...

I don't know why I haven't commented before because I always pop in here. And I always have to read your posts twice. There's always a little something I miss first time around. I hope you survived St. Patrick's Day. I didn't. Waiter, more morphine!

12:57 PM  

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