Produced as a free poem by the Great Mohasky Press, Detroit, November 4, 1974
This here’s Detroit,
home of hungering
dreams, home of my empty pockets
and tired worn fingers.
The shadows cast are Babylon’s,
that made scorpion death of my mother.
So many have sacrificed a mother
to become orphans of Detroit
grown cold in the shades of Babylon
that leave us hungering
with no place for our fingers
Sep 18, 2013