April 2009
1 post
UFO
You, a shiny sparkling splendor of light,
decorative and dancing across aerodynamics,
would be a star if not for the law of stars
that says to burn is to burn in place,
gaseous and glowing. Your skin silver
polished smooth in reckless night sprints
shuffling celestial half-court drills
over Arizonian skies, Jersey, New Mexico:
suicide scrimmage, scurry and fly, an object
come to pass, a green...
March 2009
9 posts
Cumbias
Lurched above Avenida Velasco
eucalyptus leaves clack and clatter
.
palsy torrents of tambourines dubbed
lightly against the plum desert night.
.
A peepshow of branches grasp
the burlesque of stars, skin flashes
.
a moonish cream and marble innards
of chlorophyll: aloe vera green,
.
cardboard brown, varicose purple.
Questions carved like lovers names
.
beneath the bark in razor...
“(She moved in circles and those circles moved).”
– Theodore Rothke
Penis Envy
The day my penis quit
he didn’t give his two weeks,
he wasn’t worried about the possibilities
of future references and resumes.
He just up and left
citing a bad office environment
and lack of action. He placed his cubical
in a cardboard box. I offered a raise
but it was beyond that point
and not about the money.
Unlike the notorious
tales of undersexed wives
testing the...
Fucking With Nature
Due to recent fires scorching along the freeways and the rain
that pored over night mudslide warnings in effect the reporter
at the side of a hill reports as he pokes and prods yanking some
brush from the already traumatized soil this thing can go at any moment
he says and I think of liquefaction and how great that would actually be
and how the Geology professor from my community college...
Thinking Of Her
Tarzan moves to the city studies law becomes a lawyer.
He cuts his hair too! gets a job at a high powered firm;
being King of the Jungle looks good on a resume.
He adapts no longer wears a ragged raw-hide thong,
no longer swings to destinations—there are no vines
in the city—he walks, rides the bus, takes a cab
like everyone else. Sometimes, Tarzan can be found
stooped on a barstool...
Oh! To Be Cool!
First proclaim it!
Yourself to be cool. And in fact
it exudes from your pores like leather aftershave.
Hum some Dylan
that remind of worn Levi Jeans,
warm rock and roll and the ‘no moss’ gathering stone.
Pretend you know
whatever it is that it means
to be an urban nomad, conductor of blues.
Now sweep through towns
disguised as trouble and tell them:
That Cool is the middle name you...
On What A New Day Brings
Before the promises of a new day are broken
and the city still lies in a chalk outline of itself,
go into the morning that thinks its night,
to your car parked on the street sweeping side
of the street and act like you are breaking in.
It’s OK, nobody will notice a thing, as you snake
two quarters from the mid-console cup holder,
saturated in Mr. Pibb; two quarters sunken
in a pit of syrup...
Beacon of Light
To be alive is to revel in wake of destruction. The stuck sentry posted on the expanse of plaster and wall in English 404 like a red-eye Cyclops in repose, wears a name tag, “Hello my name is: FIRE,” and claims to be the distant cousin of a light house stationed in Point Robinson that over-looks the frigid waters of the Puget Sound, scaring ships from shore, but...
February 2009
1 post
These Stones We Push
After the death of my grand-
mother my mother, curled in bed,
asked everything I knew of ghosts
and if I believed in them.
Not the white-sheet archetype
of ghost, but the type that serves
a greater truth, a truth that dissolves
into pure energy, disbursed
like fluids of light. I told her
my cousin knew her house
was haunted, finding cigarettes
burned to the filter’s...