Jules Rolfe and KJ Hannah Greenberg

Jules Rolfe

Hip Hop Music among the Branches
By KJ Hannah Greenberg

Inspiration piece

They played hip hop among the branches.
The birds did. Winging sometimes skyward,
With child-like people voices, worlds above
Puppies, fathers, pretzel venders, taffy fears.

Complexity gets confounded facing down simple things.
Little, caramel-colored lions, boxed homes, Rocks placed
At right angles, feathery bed clothes, mints, night lights,
Find proud guns, sleet, medallions, pain, nearly unfathomable.

Cold containment merely pulls back from heart-felt doors,
Exploring, privately, dirty blinds, grayed wallpaper,
Pigeon flight marked by broken windows, dumpster cats,
Elderly scholars sans podiums, plus drunk street fighters.

Most popcorn bands sing kernel songs, share bubble gum
Harmonies where debt builds, spirits droop, homicide reigns.
Knee-deep in hay, creative sorts tend toward hopelessness,
Old agon finds men struggling to levitate, expand, espouse.

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