“Into the Fold”
James Cunningham by Catharina Pavitschitz for Tank Magazine online, August 2019
I will end my night at the casino, getting moneyyyyyyyy
WINNER WINNER !! Option #2
Heels option #1
Night dress option #2
Night dress option #1
At night time, it is PARTY TIME! We are hitting every club in Miami
welpthenn
So in my English honors class we had three choices, make a poem about a personal legend, a beautiful place or a brochure of really cool place so i made a poem about a beautiful place, actually a place i’ve been where i from. Dominican republic.
My Home Land.
The first breath,
It was as thick as the syrup of dulce de leche,
The ocean breath swaying around us,
The different scents all at the same time,
The Ocean,
The warm humid air,
The Gasoline.
It was always home,
The people bustling all at once,
Street vendors selling you everything and nothing,
Car Chargers,Glasses,Flags,Candy.
The streets filled like its always 5 o’clock rush hour.
Walking the small alley looking streets,
Houses made of concrete,
That shine bright colours,
Yellows, Light blue, Orange, baby green.
Making the streets look like a package of skittles,
thats been open so fast,
it spilled on a map,
making the surrounding area beautiful.
A Bodega on every corner,
Roars of laughter coming from outside the doors,
Where older men put beautifully hand crafted dominio tables,
Of ladies dancing in tradition dresses of white, and ruffles that hold the red and blue,
On the shoulders, at the bottom before the dress kisses the floor softly,
Like a girl who gets her first kiss stolen by her first love,
Playing countless hours,
While drinking presidentes.
The barbers playing loud music from across the street with the ac on,
Little kids making Chichiguas or capuchins,
with the gelies they found on the floors in the shop,
Out of bright yellow plastic bags with the words La serena on it,
Thats Bluer than the sea and redder than a nose bleed.
Statutes illuminate the city,
one a man off at war,
another a man on his horse,
gun up pointing at the sky,
as the horse looks like its about to gallop of,
perch on his hind legs,
There stories written in old spanish,
One of christopher columbus at the front steps of his house,
Old battle cannons surrounding the city limit walls,
Most of it being destroyed,
Sometimes if you’re quite,
If feels like you can hear the yells of the men,
Orders Being chanted.
