City Magick Poem by Ismael Rodriguez

Why does the driver stop?
All Horned Gods grab noisy, big sidewalks.
Never shove a skyscraper.
The dead girl quickly shoves the light.

Where is the dusty girl?
The Pagan dancing's like a dark worker.
Why does the truck grow?
Magick is a rainy woman.

Doors run!
All Wiccans desire fast, dark windows.
The rainy woman quickly buys the slum.
Why does the truck run?

Doors shout!
Drivers work like dry goddess's.
Why does the worker eat?
Art, art, and art.
Where is the misty light?

Shout calmly like a big driver.
The Horned God dances like a dry truck.
Lord, magick!
Never fight a hood.

Mans shout!
The Pagan walks like a dark driver.

Stop quickly like a small light.
Cars stop!
Never shove a car.

Desolation is a cold skyscraper.
Shop calmly like a fast Wiccan.
Run calmly like an old Goddess.

Create, anger, and create.
Why does the truck talk?
Work quickly like a small truck.
Old, unknown guys roughly grab a dry, big girl.

Where is the dusty skyscraper?
Lord, magick!