sometimes i live in the country

irene goodnight by leadbelly

nine of wands

I met Lady Justice on a highway overpass. My car had broken down and she was on the lam. She planted her feet wide, ready for action. Her robe was transparent and her body sublime. I rocked back and forth on my heels, to let her know I meant no harm.

“Please,” I said, “Take off your blindfold. I know who you are; I want to see you with your eyes uncovered.” “This isn’t a blindfold,” she said, “It’s a bandage, sometimes a disguise.” The cars drove past underneath us. I told her my story. She said, “I don’t grant wishes.”

Lady Justice cannot love mortals. She sees through walls and can work complicated equations without a single machine. When I stopped trying to woo her, she held out her hand. Into it I cried several human tears. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a green glass marble. “Plant this,” she said, “at your next stop, and wait for forgiveness to grow.”

get it, girl

fried fish with hot sauce, onion, cornbread, sweet tea, collards, yellow squash, black eyed peas, chocolate pie, pepper sauce

un fósforo a la mandíbula

the bread and the knife

all the things you are by charlie parker

oh my gringolandia, i abstain from invoking the lord

sometimes i feel like a motherless child

sometimes i feel like a motherless child