As we enjoy the last of trick-o-treat, Greg Powell offers a poem of Hallows Eve

All Hallows Eve of Old Spirits

The old spirit’s loose in the land Unrestrained, never contained Like long ago but Stretched into a hate like fire In marrow of bone. Buried Under blood nourished soil For so long, forgotten, condemned Thriving in the underground Waiting for spark to flame vengeance On pale face motherfuckers everywhere Because no one is innocent no No one is exempt from […]

Read more >
Ready to Rumble, commentary by Greg Powell

Are You Ready to Rumble?

I don’t think Democrats can box. They follow the Queensbury rules, have good conventional form and style. But when the boxing intensifies into a fight, and things get down and dirty, the focus is trained more towards appealing to norms of boxing than punching their way off the ropes. Like “Iron Mike” said: “Everybody has a plan until they get […]

Read more >
School Song of Dunbar High School, Earle Arkansas

Dear Old Dunbar

Dear Old Dunbar Dad’s High School Song Both my parents, Clarence and Joetta Powell (Oglesby) were born and raised in Earle, Arkansas (although they didn’t come to know each other and marry until many years later after Dad finished his military duty and Mom migrated north to Chicago, where they met one morning on the El train). They grew up […]

Read more >
Weekend in the City by Greg Powell

Weekend in the City

Weekend in the City conversation sparks the night. tummies tremble with laughter. spicy gossip dishes, whispers of secrets and secret love codes. inside peeling walls of lenny’s brownstone. brooklyn din intrudes chatty love commune voices heated by vodka and distance closed between friends. car horns from Eastern Parkway curse dangerous tones. fire crackers pop and retort. our laughter sings new […]

Read more >
Dance of the NoName Diva by Greg Powell for Being Hueman

Dance of the NoName Diva

Dance of the NoName Diva (…my 19 year old son, home from college, invites me to concert…December 31, 2017, Lincoln Hall, Chicago) The conspiracy of nodding heads To blunted out sounds percolating Slow burn Afro punk vibe on the low end Making lights dance through smoky club haze Making son and friend dance stiffly And then loose themselves like boiling […]

Read more >