I see white men

I see white men folding water
wild washing women daring winds
in a new round of clean survival
measly powers to be congregating
in cold caves chiseled by the poor

hear the Latino rhythms breathe
flies of a constant summer
multiply the push of hot air
through arid villages
where a meal is a big thing

stale mate moves in the dark
old tree trunks feed green moss
there is no meaning
just a time to pay the bills
and feed the bed

I see James Dean in jeans
and there are handouts
gained at low speed
where myths and weird movies
on the Lower East Side

Poetry by Bob The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2017-03-30 at 19:56

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
. Powerful images created by your words. I see those old white men making decisions on women's health and my blood boils over. Strong emotions in words. Love it.