Under the cobblestones, the beach

Kinfolks Quarterly

Casey’s “Sun Ra Speaks to Gucci Mane” featured in the most recent issue of the new (dope as hell) Kinfolks Quarterly. http://issuu.com/kinfolksq/docs/kinfolks_-_vol_1_issue_2

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BREAKING OUR SILENCE

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EVENT PAGE

 Tickets!

 

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Interview up at Vol. 1 Brooklyn

http://www.vol1brooklyn.com/2014/01/23/sonic-boom-casey-rocheteau-on-her-new-reading-series-and-the-lives-of-touring-poets/Inaugural Show Flyer for FB

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Big Ish Poppin

Inaugural Show Flyer for FB

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ALL THE RAGE IN BROOKLYN

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Come check out our new performance series in Brooklyn: All the Rage!

Like us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ALLtheRAGEinBK

Come out to our very 1st show January, 23rd at 3rdEye(Sol)ation in Bushwick!

https://www.facebook.com/events/687245977974275/

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New Stuff up on soundcloud!

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check this panther map out


View Black Panther Hubs in a larger map

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CHECK IT OUT!

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/13/arts/design/suzanne-lacy-and-hundreds-of-women-take-to-the-stoops.html?_r=0

I’ll be on a stoop by the BK museum this Saturday if you need me! Cool art piece which is several conversations around gender/race/class. Word ’em up. Come out!

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Throwing in the Towel.

 
In the last house I worked in
as a direct care counselor
a girl whose name I could not
dredge out of my pocket
if I tried
would leave for three hours
and come back and shower,
 on repeat for most of the day.
 
Fields Corner, Dorchester
the bullet chamber is a soundproof room
It’s hard to fall asleep without the sound of
shattered glass and car alarms wailing.
 
Me and JP watched them a SWAT team shackling
all the black men in the building across the street one day
like it was time to come to America.
One bucked off a few shots blocks away and ran back.
DJ said it they each had over an oz. of weed,
I asked how she knew and she said they were her friends
I told her maybe it was time to get new ones.
We both laughed because we knew it wouldn’t happen.
 
In Medford I had to walk a white male cop
through the sexual assault protocol
I didn’t call in. So I didn’t know to anticipate
this blockhead fumbling through trauma
like a blindfolded greased hog.
 
I couldn’t tell why the young woman called him.
I don’t mean to say I would have been a better option,
but that she hated him beyond her vacillating contempt
for most other people, and he kept asking her to press charges,
come to the station, to get justice, which meant he was both green
and unjaded.
 
The first contribution I could make was to tell her
to take care of herself first. To make sure she was ok,
as if that was a viable option.
 
In Somerville they had asked me to fill in
at the boy’s house because another counselor,
a woman my age, slept with one of the clients.
 
 
He wasn’t technically a kid, at 19
but he had the coping mechanisms
of a five year old who’d hit puberty.
 
We always worked alone.
18 hour shifts, singular adult
with a staff on call, sometimes.
 
He wouldn’t leave my office no matter
how many different ways I asked, or
repercussions I threatened, he wanted
to test the boundaries, perhaps try to
notch me in his belt or see if I would
transgress the same way because couldn’t anybody?
 
I did some small thing,
moved a pillow near where he was sitting
and he launched. He threw the desk chair,
stormed out of the house for a few hours,
came back, slammed his door and
listened to Slipknot at top volume at 2 am.
 
After that that came options:
stay in the house with those young men or work in
the new house for women with a history of sexual trauma
and somehow that was an easy choice.
 
By that point, I had seen six supervisors come and go
in two and a half years, and a free ride to a PhD program.
I still cooked chicken I didn’t eat,
stayed awake until 5 am the night
one precious angel screamed at her ex or some other asshole
with a gun to come to her house and try to shoot her,
like wasn’t nobody pregnant,
like bullets were going to take her to her real home.
 
The week I left, they had discovered that there was a trap brothel
on that same block. The landlord knew and never said.
 
Safety is all smoke, no mirrors
for us. A hoax some wealthy person invented,
or maybe it was God.
 
 
 
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Sun Ra speaks to Gucci Mane

this wouldn’t post right with the formatting, so I took a screencap. Deal wid it.Picture 2

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