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10 April 2008 @ 01:24 pm
I originally posted this with the last entry, right above its last stanza...  
...However, im trying to get better at poetic fluidity and organization. And, well, this just doesn't go with the rest:

And low and behold
Where's the difference repeatedly told?
Between the battered barrios of here 
and yore. the undressed ninas with knees 
suction cupped to the ground. 
a priestess and priest fucking tradition in favor of each other.
taking the communion of the city. 
the communion of the city.
green and red and yellow sidelines
go, stop, maybe so, 
trafficking a mother's desperation
coupled with a brother's allegiance of perspiration
(bang bang bang--his brotherhood's a club for the dead)
the city wrought with secrets for all the world to see
like the shame worn on my ruffled red sleeve
of these clubs I inately belong to