African Burial Ground

These poems by David Mills are part of a series that elegantly and imaginatively explores Manhattan’s African Burial Ground, the oldest and largest such cemetery in the United States.
Whistlelo

Whistlelo

Freedom?! I live in a lawyer’s clamped attic with Minnie and Cudjoe who ain’t free.
A Lopsided G-d

A Lopsided G-d

Another text, he wrote; tossed it off his tongue addressing “Negroes of the State of New York.”
Lloyd’s Neck/Slink

Lloyd’s Neck/Slink

Scrupulous, astute: to the City he was sent (by) and sometimes went (with) Master Henry to shoehorn deals.
Talking to the Bones: Talking

Talking to the Bones: Talking

“That Kalk Hook farm was uppermost?” “I promise: a sky beyond the sky will burn in this earth.”

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