Last Draft is proud to share a spoken word performance of the poem Black Power Dance by Brandon Wint.
Black Power Dance can be found in print in Brandon Win...
The World has never been too kind to us.
Ignorance often trails behind us like a lost child.
As she is she
& I am me.
These petty ego negotiations
Like small weeds blowing in the wind
At the base of my thick wooden trunk
They are nothing to me
Nothing compared to
My roots goin...
In the days growing up in Port Arthur, as it turned itself into Thunder Bay, I did lots of camping. This is in the middle of North-Western Ontario and camping ...
Sometimes the paper writes it for me.
Sometimes the music plays itself.
Sometimes my dreams are the way I choose to speak.
Sometimes I listen to myself.
The tattooed girl sits
with bare feet on the carpet.
Does her heart still work?
she groans at the sight of them,
he left his boxer sh...
To my mom, Jennet Sandler, also human, also woman, also artist, also friend, also partner, also wife, also sister, also daughter, also caretaker, also homemake...
In many places over the years, I have come across the following mantra: “I am strong because a strong woman raised me.” And when I think of the person I am tod...
A perpetual moment sinks into my draw, it stirs
about my head in a lukewarm whiff. It waits
in a blurred and naked ken of birth-marked film, spilled
canopy of ...