“there’s a cosmic storm whenever he’s in my orbit five races at war outside time, trapped in one spindly high-toned body, knobby elbows and knees the rigorously loving teachings of mom and dad take root despite media engineering and peer pressures. the snippy cuttings, mouthy snipings, and cheeky wit…”— Wanda Coleman, apmpodcasts.orgTagged: Poetry, The Slowdown, Dad, ancestral, brown