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By Poet Htebazile Rronk I'm back in New York, Idle in the brown haze, Breathing grease and smoke from Jungle tenements Adorned with granite gods. A thousand sordid rituals Hum in harmony With rhythms of despair While uptown folk Worship the muses. The night chorus swells As a gaunt basso lingers, Waiting to spring On a delicate soprano Late for her appointment. Here, rain seethes and winds Through trade center corridors Lapping at the heels Of apathetic hucksters Who dance through streets Mined with savage souls. Priests of darkness Order the slaughter of their patrons Knowing reinforcements will arrive, and Tarnished stars Lead processions where doll-eyed princes Sit heads bowed, eyes lowered, As they contemplate the architecture Of their blood stained hands. Those Chaldean kings Survey their holy human zoo With greedy eyes that drink Until they're satisfied. Their prophets peer from lofty perches Decorated with golden bullrushes And steel babies Welded solidly together. I'm back in New York Wrestling against ancient parapets Where the works of mad artists Baptize me with tears. Htebazile Rronk |