Black is what the prisons are,
The stagnant vortex of the hours
Swept into totality,
Creeping in the perjured heart,
Bitter in the vulgar rhyme,
Bitter on the walls;
Black is where the devils dance
With time within
The creviced wall.
Black knight with thor's hammer in your bat.
I've heard how you blasted the hell out of bullets from the rifle of satch and the likes.
If grandpa still breathed he'd... TO JOSH GIBSON (legendary slugger of the old Negro baseball league) by George Mosby Jr.
