My faith in God]

it is not a slur on Broadway, Brooklyn}

He used to be my king

and now, tyrannies, in magazines

not dressing Urban Outfitters

like if blacks were not too loud in Washington Square

they are selling green


Asian food stores do not pick

up my broken English

broken soul salt

Robi Draco Rosa has one more chance

it was a lumbering effort

I am shaking like Jack White

the hurricane never came, never made it

overcast thunder snakes, happy faces, woman symbols

but a woman was found dead in the Hudson river

but a baby was found dead in Prospect Park

the power in me OUTSIDE my dreams

the rats in the sidewalk , international rats in the academia

you want me to be quiet, so I can win an award?

Oh! please, don’t smoke next to me

the Artur hurricane ‘s wind smell

like your cigarette.

Sultriness pervades the air.



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