Letter to the Intelligentsia
In this cage of preconceived notions,
—in the crevices of God’s palm,
You’ve seen me wallow in my sorrows in the cortex
And scream to the heavens of insanity.
I’ve skidded across the fields and felt the silk of plains,
I’ve slept in huts, birthed fire from my mouth,
I’ve felt the scathing sun in a golden moonlight,
I’ve seen it all, all, et al.