newsflash

we must always return to poems for top news of the world or perish for the lack take it strip it block it with blood pages is not enough unless the sun rises old professor romero writes crouched on a bench in the borough we know as the bronx i am torn by light struck at night she cries into her own mind playing fields of death are far from me. in puerto rico, i carried a fallen countryman in a duffel bag and ran three days and nights through the country side subway creates corruption causing massive eruption scent of drunk falling out on the left side of the bench smell of a robe a muslim sells with white magazines with spittle and gum never a good sight to get lost underground by the time its yankee stadium people run and stumble full of frenzy never were they ever friendly hands loaded down fists clenched into balls a strange man approaches dirt all over his shirt his head, a battering ram he don't know who i am i stall: the tracks flash with a thousand suns