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"In the first place the Black Panther Party had been hung by its Black Power neck. Never mind they’d shot the all mighty King of Love straight through his loving heart and he was already dead twelve and a half years. Then you figure Malcolm and Medgar, the Kennedys, those four little girls, that circle-faced grinning Emmett Till were mere Black liberation ghosts that couldn’t be conjured by Jesus or voodoo, no matter the cognac, no matter the prayer."

"When Pigs Murdered Soup and the World Still Spun", a short story about the murder of a young boy by Baltimore police.

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