I wrote a few words to a beautiful photograph by Jiao Chen, and my brother, Rictor Craig, sang it.
A few weeks ago, I was in Mexico to see the Madame CJ Walker exhibit in Tijuana. While coming back into the US, I was waiting in line, in my car, taking photos of the vendors and situations. I took a photo of this man, walking by, carrying scarves, a basket, and rugs.
The photo developed, and everything was there except his head, hands, and body. Only what we was wearing, and carrying.
With no explanation. And we never saw him again. TRUE.
[photography by Jiao Chen]
You are where the ink got wasted
The blood was tasted and the wines were sweet
The countrysides were sometimes splendid
And the rain tired on your feet
My hands are bastardized, tarred and sullied
My veins are bitter and so sweet
These hills of Virginia are graceless muddied
And the rain tires on my feet
We will watch from behind an aperture
We will see the roofs we will see the fleet
We will watch for falling rocks and rubble
And rain tiring on our feet