Persecution Avenue bobs and weaves his words similar to a cagey, seasoned prize-fighter who knows when to jab and when to float, when to throw the hook and when to rest on the ropes…here is a brief, teaser excerpt from his piece, “This Little City”
This little city, my little city with the siren soundtrack: where the B-more Black- birds smoke and mirrors lend the opium outcasts a purple hue; the opaque outrage at the state of the avenue.
A city again lost when they lose and so we choose to get tossed
in the latent lavender suited lies of our pink politicians.
Forgetting their triple bra platform;
are Sheila’s sho…