Querido American Teatro

It's easier to believe in you
In the city.
Any city.
Desde Los Angeles
To Nueva Yol
Mi dear
Your middle landscape scares

El teatro y la arte
is calling old Spike words
Channeled from Baldwin speeches
Wake up poor little jibaro
Mi dear Luciano we are still called nigga
Behind close doors
If they need you to dance

The old dinosaurs are dying
Mi querida amiga tells me
While they claw into our melanin
For the last time mi dear.
No need for screams Jibarito.
we've taken over the whips and chains
Let them die we are used to the pain.

The White sheets still roam
We know tu landscape mi dear.
Stop lying to yourself
The middle landscape de ti
America perdida, por favor respira-no
La tierra herida, acceptance-no
Mira look mira lo mira-no

Let the art flow y Oye mi dear
Kaneza Schall's Jack &.
Young Jean Lee Straight White Men
The TEAM's Reconstruction
Becca Blackwell's Schmerm
Burke's Flag Play
Lin's Hamilton...
Endless List.

We are here...No?
In The Empty Space...Yes!
That Deadly, Holy, Rough, Immediate Space!
Where you have always given clarity
Where a Ghetto Klown teaches history
Where the light still shines bright
Now more than ever