Brother Is Said. One of the brothas that really put me on. I guess he really is a writer because that’s all I’ve ever seen him do. Write. Pull scrolls out of his satchel and sell them for a few bucks to get a sandwich and go off with that sandwich and write about the sandwich. Take a sandwich, put it into his body and mind and transform it into words.
One time I remember he translated to me the stories and struggles of a cockroach that lived in his apartment. I was like seven years old when he told me. Didn’t know at that point that the words that my mind made were so important. He told me to carry a pad because a cockroach might speak to me one day, or I might hear music when writing down my grocery lists. And so I began to write with him out there on the east side of Columbus – learning how to believe in my truth without citing sources. Learning how to know it was right when it was written.
