THE UNDERGROUND POET’S REPORT
We would all feel more alive—live in the enormous present
with remarkable attentiveness if we were all a little Black.
The enemy of the people may be Whitey,
digitalized nerds—deadened, gum-chewing vibe-suckers
who are flat-footed and reek of halitosis.
They play with a loaded deck, use counterfeit money,
and secretly invade our privacy.
I have no use for “data voodoo dolls”—tech doesn’t know,
the sun’s a star and will not rise forever.
Hold on to your hat for the ride of a lifetime.