an almost accidental gathering of poets
 
   
 
 
Lucille Clifton
 
in the inner city
in the inner city
or
like we call it
home
we think a lot about uptown
and the silent nights
and the houses straight as
dead men
and the pastel lights
and we hang on to our no place
happy to be alive
and in the inner city
or
like we call it
home
   
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