UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
On a sidewalk in NYC,
my father told me that I was
not destined to fame or fortune.
In the academy, a professor
said that if you are not anthologized
you will go extinct.
Darwinism of letters does not concern me.
A plausible reason for self-destruction, does.
I am humble,
as I act as host
between an urban
Heaven or Hell –
just a glance
away from each other.
We stood by the edge of the Hudson River –
you thought of our life together
on this new island,
and I reminisced of a Langston Hughes' poem,
where he heard the song of suicide
in the water's reflection.
© 2006 Underground Voices