Wildfire
Sip This
When it stinks, stay
Geronimo’s hair
Oranges
Poetry Poem
Bronzeville by Night (1949)
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Hostage
War, indignant
holds a trench knife
to the throat of heaven.
Demands entry into forever.
The answer is always, no.
War presses it's cause, just
until helpless skies will, oozes.
This time, first yellow, then blue.
What will a watching world do
let it bleed?
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