Derrick Austin

Blaxploitation

for and after Erica Dawson Another night of "I'm not usually into black guys but..." and I'm alone with Johnny Walker black and too many movies. I'm not offended. No black moods at all. I'll watch The Seventh Seal. Black chess pieces slaying white, live or die, Bergman's black- est phase. See I'm not mad. But if I were Black Death right now, I'd slaughter love. Fade to black. Brides-to-be would roll around in ash, black- en their dresses and veils in rivers black as ink: Gather your roses, dye them red to black. Then they'd hear the gallop. Metal no black- smith could forge, flaming, sparking, on the black hooves of four horses—red, green, black, and white. Who's that? Hallelu! A miracle! Black skies part and resurrected Love blacks my eyes and rubs me out beneath his black sole. No more pain. I'm better. Fade to black. Bergman's done. I need magic. Call a trick. It's black and white—he's red all over. I love my black boys sore. He can't grab my hair, black brillo pad, curlicues snatched by my black hand all over the bed and his back like black script. Give me that nigger dick. His bootblack, I gave all of him a shining. You're shocked a black man took that? I've heard his shit before. Black 's an absence, no stimulation for the eye's black pupil, but I'm right here, still whole (Black don't crack), and he (Once you go black...) got off just fine. Sleepless, we debate seeing a black comedy or a musical, Cukor or Lee. How about Black Orpheus? On the news, another case of black on black. Where's the white on black? The tone on tone? No nuance here. The screen black- ens, then stutters over an ad for Black Narcissus (Coming soon to Blu-ray...). Blue-black night hems into dawn. I'm feeling Blax- ploitation. How about Coffy, Pam Grier? Black pin cushion, I've got razors all up in my hair. Black power. He touches me by not knowing how. Fade to black.   prev - 4.3 home - next