Mo' Po'

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thinkin' of mo' than one can cogitate:

there's a banner for you, a banner right through you when drinkin' on the street late last night and staring at the shadow of a banner that read "Fight No More," I thought of the power of a well-placed "w." All the semi-bohemian-hipsters-scenster-corporate-lacky-dogs who have bought in to the American Dream have finally moved in, which makes the rest of us want to drink on the streets in the fake-spring of this early February, but as an outsider of insiders, even if I wanted to, I could not choose a side in our imperialism inside and outside of this small-big-city.

Langpo? PoMo? Shit, what the hell have you theorists been doing these last few years, listening to the bootlegs of popular hip-hop?

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