At Harlem Hospital across the street from the Schomburg the only thing to eat is a Big Mac

after Z. S. Still, somehow we are carousel. We spin bodies to the wall and back. We are woman and man and man. We are surgeon and operation. We are everybody we love. We are inside them. We are inside and we are laughing. We are man and we will die too. We know thatContinue reading “At Harlem Hospital across the street from the Schomburg the only thing to eat is a Big Mac”

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