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.