Marquis D. Gibson
Bio
i am an artist.
Stories (20)
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Nevertheless, New Orleans Persists
October 2018. A friend of 5 years had been planning an evening at Brooklyn Steel to witness a double header featuring Big Freedia and the headliner, Tank and the Bangas. I was beside myself. It was an immediate, resounding yes.
By Marquis D. Gibson5 years ago in Beat
Mechanics and Farmers
I was desperate. You must understand that. It was harvesting season. For many, many months no crops grew among the 10 acres of land I till and live on in rural North Carolina. My great grandfather left the farm to his son and down the line it went. Each generation of Thomas men before me worked the ground til their fingers bleed, til the sweat collected in rivers down their cheeks. Somehow, when granddaddy died and Dad couldn’t work anymore because of a bad back from a life in the fields, the land fell to me. Asa Toniko Thomas. I studied economics and comparative religion , not horticulture. I didn’t know the first thing about maintaining 10 acres of land and avoided the trade to keep my head in the books. Mother’s orders. Now was my time and I was squandering the legacy of Thomas men who migrated from the island of Hispaniola to North Carolina with an inheritance built in the rice and sugar cane fields of Port-au-Prince and even on the beaches of Jacmel. The land reigns in the Thomas family.
By Marquis D. Gibson5 years ago in Humans
Bull City
It's the City of Medicine but received its nickname from the infamous Bull Durham Tobacco company. The bull still stands proudly in the newly renovated downtown area. It's home to Duke University, the Durham Performing Arts Center that houses touring Broadway shows (hopefully that can happen again soon), the Tobacco Trail that connects major parts of the city. Not to mention the Durham Bulls Athletic Park for our baseball team. None of these attractions make Durham home, for me.
By Marquis D. Gibson5 years ago in Wander
To Be Where the Love Resides
“What do you want?” “Dear friendship.” I wanted to believe him but I couldn’t. I wanted to imagine that even after a few months of dating followed a couple months of radio silence that he really wanted to remain friends, dear friends. Deep down, I knew he was lying. How could he want to be something he never proved himself to be in the months leading up to this conversation? I had to let him go. Still, I couldn’t.
By Marquis D. Gibson5 years ago in Humans
The Gin Game
I walked up to the John Golden Theatre box office determined. Rush tickets for this particular Broadway show were nonexistent. Patrons were flying in from all over the country to witness the majesty of two of the world’s greatest icons, legends of their craft. It was the closing week of D.L. Coburn’s The Gin Game starring James Earl Jones and the goddess that is and that was Cicely Tyson. I need tickets to that show.
By Marquis D. Gibson5 years ago in Humans
The Librarian and the Mortician
Bernadette and Benedict Olivier were never ones for social affairs beyond a reasonable hour. Most residents of The Deep, a scratch of land featuring humble department stores, barbershops, schools and churches, know to leave the Oliviers to their business. Should one ever be so bold as to threaten their routine, you were sure to be met with those eyes, shocking, brilliant and never-ending. Their eyes were not large, just piercing and endless. If an event of the modest town absolutely required the presence of Bernadette and her menage, they were to occur during the day, preferably the weekends. Monday holidays were always a treat.
By Marquis D. Gibson5 years ago in Futurism
