never again
will the
birds tweet
the same
never again
will your
laughter line
my ears
never again
will your
warmth sooth
my soul
never again
will my
heart jump
for joy
Poetry
insomniac
ghosts sit by the door
lurking between the wood planks
with them a scent of gardenia
silver orbs hang in the dark
eclipsed by the street light
i speak to them in my mind
they retort that i am a sinner
groaning their disappointment
weeping then leaving
as the night waltzes on
my eyes strain to seek the stars
between the TV antennas on apartment roofs
meat and bone stars twinkle instead
providing my neighbors with a comfort
the witching hour around the corner comes
my eyes turned downward
ignoring a call from the highway
bent on taking me out to a life
i ran away from
spread the WLS
tough skin
like a tree in the dead of city
tough skin is what i need
to think about myself
as standing tall and without bend
tickling the sky with my leaves
tough skin is what i speak
through the chirps of tawny birds
and the billions of bugs’ marching feet
along the branches of my trunk
spread the WLS
discarded
the clouds layered gray
throughout this day
watching coupled hands clasped in love
tender are their eyes
looking forward to a future
who won’t surrender to their whims
the old ones long ago bereft of their lover
look the other way
spread the WLS
there are
there are new cracks on the pavement caused by time strain and cheap materials there are old expressions on faces caused by time strain and indifference there are old buildings with new structural injuries caused by burning crack pipes violence and human defecation there are new leaders with bad intentions fueled by greed narcissism and ignorance
spread the WLS
for Slim and Steve
thorns so sharp
and beautiful like your love
unattainable to the touch
dry and dead like promises made
in a far off night
that was made in a bottle
spread the WLS
storm
storm you are so black
i am so empty
storm you are powerful
i curled up quiet
storm if i could touch your electricity
and send my atoms to rest
spread the WLS
eight and three is 11
8 moons and 3 Sputniks
i see tonight while standing
outside deep breathing
the news shows
bleeding from my neighbor’s window
tomorrow i will rise
get caffeinated
and get on the road
to imagine what it’d be like
if i could fly in outer space
spread the WLS
in Echo Park
only with age can i see myself in those children running and laughing in the womb of the summer night
they
only about a pound heavier than the great water lily pads laying quietly upon the whispers of the koi fish rising to the surface of the pond blowing kisses to the moon
spread the WLS
just another day
just another day
there are things
that are meant
to he secret
there are codes
that are followed
and no one
knows the meaning
or how the
human drama will
be played out
perhaps there will
be murder or
the sale of
drugs there will
be money to
be made no
matter what the
cost of it
words less spoken 