I was trying to comprehend exactly why the death of poet Amiri Baraka affected me so deeply. I cried when I heard. I haven’t read his work in years, I didn’t always agree with his politics and polemics, but still…I feel I lost something yesterday afternoon.
Amiri Baraka spoke at Florida State when I attended, I think back in 2006 or 2007. I don’t remember what he lectured on, only that he was an electric little old man with a Kangol hat and rumpled clothing. Amiri spoke razors into the air and slit us open. His voice carried the boom and current of the 60s, as if the Revolution had camped out in his throat because the rest of us Negroes were sleeping.
Read more at Truly Tafakari…
dara t. mathis 
Me, too. RIP indeed.
Feeling sorry…RIP