I met this man, Ricky Teague, outside the Powell st bart station. He sold me some poems on a piece of paper. Here’s one called Fallen Angel

I am a falling angel who fell from
the reflection of my forefathers
and now am here in a world of sin.
I looked into a puddle of water and
what do I see
worldly things of me
Where is he that is cool like ice
that is wet and moist
that blows within the wind
that has it own warmth
that makes me grit my teeth
that blows air through my nose
that gives me a life of my own
Don’t let my heart be troubled
because I found my creator through
meditation and our prayer
Who is he that I think of
Oh I know because he gives me
a mind of my own
That is what makes me a human being
thinking of world things.