sun falls upon hard city street
downtown day full of promise
and to think that we live
between final numbers
and fleeting tantric dreams

sun falls upon hard city street
downtown day full of promise
and to think that we live
between final numbers
and fleeting tantric dreams

through my fingers they speak
flutter swiftly laughing
translucent and sometimes wicked dark
nonsense to me or you
yet in my dreams
the tomes of history explored
poured out the morning after
through my crooked fingers scrawled

it took about three hours to get to Los Angeles Street
from Mission Avenue
with its grandiose blocks of junked cars
guys who waved flags like bull fighters
funneling you into their driveways
to get your muffler fixed for $75
i thought about Hemingway’s story
looking down at the dirty greased earth
wondering why i wasn’t dead that afternoon
trying to find the lesson or the meaning
of that certain event in my life
my body hurt
the concrete was harder than i had ever remembered
the worn sole of my one right Chinese girl shoe
mouthed slowly at every step i’d take
as it “peeoed-peeoed” at me
like baby birds demanding food
i thought of my left shoe
it became a casualty
strewn under a fire escape at Werdin Place
i imagined my shoe there
embalmed with bum urine and cigarette ash
never really felt self-pity
until that moment
my one black sock
still on my left foot
i stank like Camels and latex
i was dirty all the way
deep into the marrow
i consoled myself
tearing the bandages from my throat and my left ring finger
the bandages caused me to admit defeat
worst yet
victimhood
i sat on the curve of Sunset and Spring St.
to cry amongst the scent of taquitos and Peking duck
knock knock knock bang bang bang
“Ay! I goingg, cheeett!” said a husky voice from behind 303
“Ciao, Taino,” i whispered
“Ave Maria! Niňa, what happen to juu?! Alvaro, Alvaro! Cojeme el first aid kit!” tisked Taino
“I’m good doll. I just took a little beating late last night. I’ve already seen the doctors,” i explained
Taino dressed in a paisley green red and gold muumuu
ignored my answer
heavy mocha hands gently pulled and tugged
at the hoodie full of blood
his thick long red taloned fingers
negotiated with my bruises
fussing over me
Taino’s fiery short red bob
swooshed back and forth
past his round jowls
right below the heavy rouge line
he ordered his friend
to go get dragon won ton soup
Gatorade and ginger ale right quick
while Taino spoon fed me
he would rattle on
about simpler times
in the Puerto Rican mountains
about his mother’s cuisine
after a long day at work
Taino would look at me tenderly
eyelids thickly lacquered
blue shadow and black fake eye lashes
akin to window awnings
while he lined me
i’d caress his thick indigenous cinnamon face
that is why i named him Taino
“O.k. niňa vamos a dormir now mi reina.” he whispered in my ear
as he spooned me
telling his roommate Alvaro
not to answer the “gatdam” door to anyone
“Taino, do you believe in God?” i remember slurring
“Oh, si mami, claro.” Taino agreed in a hush
“Taino, is your mom happy you are like a woman? I am Taino, I love you,” those words crawled
out of my mouth
“Ay niňa, so many questions,” i could hear him sighing
a million miles away
there just before ten
the stars twinkle
just for a second
then they go and move away
from my sight
my back tense but tired
longs for touch
for the afterglow of one
with heart and courage
to withstand the broken glass
and shards shooting from my soul
seeping from eyes
he will catch the rain
and kiss the thunder of my thoughts
warm soft sand
breeze rippled smiles
across the mounds
wispy grasses
i smell salt
the seaweed that comes to shore
lends substance to the air
cotton candy fluff like
is the wind that rides tonight
soaring all of my prayers to the sky
where to diamond stars they’re delivered
and where the earth and sleepy she sun meet
they kiss releasing beams of orange glee
closing my eyes
i move my arms and adjust my heart
facilitating peace that finds me

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Issue III: hestia (hearth & home) is now available to download! The digital download is completely free but if you wish to donate/pay as you feel, you can do so through the Donate tab. Issue III: hestia (hearth & home) explores what home means to us all through poetry, prose, photography & artwork. Contributors reveal how […]
Issue III released
the beeping and the blinking
and the math on the wires
monitors and iv drips
blue and silver serial numbers
of the medical equipment
sent tiny shocks of stress
directly to his sweat soaked head
since adolescence
the only way he knew
how to soothe himself
after a stressful situation
or how to survive
a dry period
between snorts or shots
was to savor the sensation
of his rolling eyes
to the back of his neck
after a good junk score
it started with strained nerves
abstract jittery eyelids
tiny tear drops sweeping
from the corners of his eyes
then tenebrosity
gunning through pin-hole pupils
the relief of a private world now televised
his relief
the private world
painted with garish French carnival colors
golds that were green
reds that were milky blood pink
old ship ropes and Macaque monkeys
like the ones from a Burroughs’ dream
twinkling moths scurry from the bulb
carefully knit filigree cobweb
as an exclusive lampshade serves
they bounce and leap
a circus extravaganza
in the colors of night
old houses chipped wood
smell of old books and history
then there’s the really busy moths
with patterned powder wings
the beautiful ones
gathered up in a bouquet
innocently placed
by the spider’s gothic cloister
sometimes randomly i ask the light
whisper through me it might help
dear light
have you ever been prayed to
i would assume so
and if not that means i’m the first
finally at last