My world is down . . . broken back alleys,
old closed down juke joints,
and jesus shacks boasting bodiless symphonies.
I am women perched behind shades,
Staring out into poverty-stricken silence.
Love sought to live here once with the lunatics.
But now my world is four blocks of undiluted pain.
Where crying has long since been outlawed
Because it would be too redundant.