More NaPoWriMo Relief

 I’m enraptured by Mr B’s raps. Performed in a “teahouse” related to that of Chucky D. (whom B admires), Mr. B’s poems incite a similar awe and bewilderment: they hang together by force of an utterly original, almost Edwardian imperialism. They offer new possibles for how and why colonies might cluster together, which means they also blaze a new pathway through history. Magnanimously Angloid, cerebral yet unafraid of abjection, his poems teach us something we haven’t yet understood. I present Mr. B, Gentleman Rhymer:

 

 

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