At the corner of Stockton and Wessel stands the greatest monument to white people in the city of Angelo. The tall white spire of the steeple extends high into the blue sky. People who visit say that spire reaches into the heavens and allows God a direct ladder to the sanctuary. In the sanctuary, sculpted…
There’s a fantasy in America that I’m disposable.
You drew it. I saw it. I won’t let it define me. You drew a box. Its boundaries weren’t drawn in sand, in pencil, in marker, in tape. But I knew. I knew the boundaries of that box. I chose not to be inside. You drew poor limits. I chose to remain outside looking in.…
Pearce Writing 