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By Fred Joiner

a pocket can sometimes be
a kind of prison,

I have never lived in
a cash economy where the bill

fold unfolds to find someone
creased in the middle,

but perhaps credit moves
the same, the way it scores

the pocket & the body
boxed & bureaued

the edge of a card
cuts anything  akin to skin

a Dollar, a Euro, a World
Bank, a debt to erase,

a race, a weight.

Added: Thursday, April 6, 2017  /  From "The Next Verse Poets Mixtape" (Central Square Press, 2016). Used with permission.
Fred Joiner
Photo by Rahima Rice.

Fred Joiner is a poet and curator living in Chapel Hill, NC. Fred has read his work nationally and internationally, his work has been translated into German, Chinese, and French. Joiner is a two-time winner of the Larry Neal Award for Poetry and a 2014 Artist Fellowship Winner awarded by the D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities. In 2015, Joiner’s ekphrastic poem “Below as Above” won the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African Art’s Divine Comedy Poetry Contest, in response to Abdoulaye Konate’s tapestry work. As a curator of literary and visual arts, Joiner has worked with the American Poetry Museum, Belfast Exposed Gallery (Northern Ireland), Hillyer Artspace, Honfleur Gallery, Medina Galerie (Bamako, Mali), the Phillips Collection, the Prince Georges County African American Museum and Cultural Center, the Reginald F. Lewis Museum, Smithsonian's National Museum of African Art, and others. He is a board member of The American Poetry Museum and Arch Development Corporation, and the co-founder of The Center for Poetic Thought.

Other poems by this author