![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() He wrote poems about God and nature and other grand things befitting, he believed, the stately tenor of verse. Now they held a pencil and the bound journal in which he composed his measured lines each week in advance of Sanchez’s Thursday evening workshop at the Countee Cullen Library on West 136th Street in Harlem. His hands told the story: swollen knuckles and chafed skin, hands used to lift and to heave and to haul. A Black man born near the close of the 19th century, little more than two decades removed from slavery, his life had seen its share of struggle. THE POET SONIA Sanchez can’t recall the man’s name, but she knows that in 1971 he was 85 years old, two years younger than she is today.
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