. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Sunday, September 5, 2010


With Lake Superior in the distance...

Minnesota is burning,
Gone are the Somali slums that mark the border of the Twin Cities,
Ashen vagrants in overpopulated housing projects,
Traditional red cotton saris
     become wandering flamingos lost in the morning haze,
Asubuhi njema, rafiki,
No, friend,
Not so good a morning at all,

The same downtown as everywhere,
A descent into Hell
     to bring back the Mexican holy grail,
Smothered in beans, sauces, cheese,
There is too much white in this black boy rap,
Street-side battle dispersed by heavy horse hooves,
Pissed off cops,
Water leaks from the roof,
One more spilled drink on the ground,
She opens her legs and reveals her painted tiger,
Hipsters even here,
Same downtown as everywhere,

We bathe like Romans in the north country,

Canada so close,
Loons call and are hesitant to give up their rights,
Swimming in reflected stars,
The constellations shimmer and are gone,
A crackling fire,
On the ends of our cigars too,
Cedars barks and chases off into the woods,

He’ll be back,

There are wolves out there,
And Minnesota is on fire.


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