Emanuel Xavier

IT RAINED THE DAY THEY BURIED TITO PUENTE

It rained the day they buried Tito Puente The eyes of drug dealers following me As I walked through the streets Past shivering prostitutes Women of every sex Young boys full of piss And

A SIMPLE POEM

I want you to continue writing Because I will not always be around With lips that will never touch mine Read your poems out loud So that the words are left engraved On the

for Lindsay AIDS Knows the condom wrapped penetration Of strangers and lovers, deep inside Only a tear away from risk Knows bare minimum t-cell level counts, Replacing intoxicating cocktails With jagged little pills Knows

WARS & RUMORS OF WARS

“Ye shall hear of wars and rumors of wars; See that ye not be troubles; All these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet” -Matthew 24:6 1. I escape the

THE DEATH OF ART

“Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you.” -critic Harold Bloom, who first called slam poetry “the death of art.” I am not a poet. I want to be