Reflections, prose, and poems remembering Randall Kenan by Black former students and friends, old and new.

A conversation between authors Michael Croley and Belle Boggs.

The night I deployed, four inches of ice fell across the state of Arkansas. This was late December, in the dark days right after Christmas. My friends and I were home from the various colleges we’d escaped to after high school, and in the few days before we disappeared again we drank too much and woke in the cold morn- ings hurting in a hundred different ways. A fine mist fell through the streetlights, and already the temperature was dropping.