From the verses of Shakespeare to the violence of Football, a soft hand on the nape of my neck to a rim's hard rattle after a dunk, the mute of Miles to the rhymes of Rakim, Hershey's chocolate to a garlic peppered, cedar-planked salmon, Joel Dias-Porter's thoughts scatter like grains of black sand across a wind-blown beach.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Trey For Trayvon
Rain drips
from the edge of my hoodie-
Spring morning
Face down
in the damp young grass-
scattered Skittles.
1 comment:
it's really nice little poem.
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