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February 26, 2024

Cubist Ghettos

By Strider Marcus Jones

Cubist Ghettos

I think
To shrink
The distance
Of resistance
Inside self
To all else -

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
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.

Article © Strider Marcus Jones. All rights reserved.
Published on 2022-01-03
Image(s) are public domain.
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