Cubist Ghettos
I think
To shrink
The distance
Of resistance
Inside self
To all else -
Knowing
Showing
Vulnerability
In the mystery
Leaves what is closed
Openly exposed --
To explanation
Under examination
When there isn't one
That hasn't gone
Until roof floor and sky door
Are no more --
Only roulette rubbles
Of drone troubles
Imprisoning
Reasoning
In cubist ghettos
Wearing jazz stilettos --
Flashing flamingo legs
To pink paradise harlem heads
While new trees grow up mute
And ripen with strange fruit
Some whites too this time
A drowned boy me and mine.
The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.