WHITE Mike

Dear Everybody (but Especially You),

These are not books. I mean, they are books, just not a book-books. 

Let me explain. I have a lot of ideas.  They tumble out of my head constantly - potatoes from a split sack at the top of the stairs, gathered one by one because food is not wasted. Or perhaps they’re more like receipts crushed into a ziplock bag - tax time inevitable. Sometime. Some. Time. I’m able to make the thoughts real. An object. An experience. An environment. A monument. But this takes Some. Time.  And I am impatient, and the spigot on my imaginings doesn’t turn off. It seems a shame to keep them in dark corners... 

Anyway. This continues my obsession with Urban Fiction/HOOD TALES.  A collection of my dark twisted science fiction romantical fantasies of Magical Baby Daddies, White Mikes, Zombie Killing Strippers, Black Lives Matter Sheriff Scientists, Sleuthing Cosmetologists and Digital Fight Clubs for Angry Black Women.  At least on the outside. Inside, there’s a year’s worth of space to write your own ideas. Your own plans. Your own dreams. Letters to the ancestors, hopes for the young...

So enjoy - I hope the outside gives you a chuckle, ‘cause the inside is all you.

Sincerely,

Kenya (Robinson)