the fusillade below my heart signaled a transformation that i hadn’t planned visions of blood fodder fingers crushing the innocence of flowers all for goodness sake further down the tunnels men bent in half praying to their shrink meanwhile ticker sounds of acreage burning does Herod have a bodyguard and the soup kitchen has run out of toe tags can we breath the breeze of ancient orange one last time before the refugees of peace become the next on your waiting list of morally inclined to do whatever to fit into the culture of the day
ain’t what she used to be
in youth i’d run with a pack of wild dogs now they Netflix it
we’d howl at the day and bark at the sun
night time our turn to wag hell out of the city
where did my vicious rockin’ pack go Xerox Corp CEO famous music boys political party hardies Cheetahs lead dancer girl
tax filers line followers at the DMV mimosas on Sundays and tea with the Queen
no more mashing heads smoking drinking or raging party over here throw up over there look out the cops are coming mates!
Ben Gay’s my friend supporting me as i reach to grasp the Prevagen
my leather and spikes traded for breathable organic fabrics and compression socks
alas my lover’s tats aren’t where they used to be but in between snores and farts he says don’t worry babe neither are your tits
longing
on the shore where it is quiet
the people gone for the night
but only the echo of their laughter
tangled up in the ebb and flow of the tides
the foam crackles on the scrumptious sand
my toes drill into the warmth of your shore
a sensualness seeps through the pores of my skin
because that beautiful he moon above me
with glorious pewter rays of light
directs my memories of you
who are of the universe now
i still stand here alone on earth
walking with the sons of Cain
sentenced to miss you exclusively
the twelve golden stars to weep they must
to bear witness of what the polarities
of our world have done to my anemic heart
this land were my feet don’t touch
tell me please what are my charges
will the grains of sand
who lavish in the waters of rebirth
rebuke our love as well
lady Blue release me
to swim about in your sea
and race my soul toward the last sunset
for Poppa
only at Your lap can i find comfort
advantage
i’m drunk on confusion you see Stockholm syndrome all up inside of me we’ve had a different mix here and there cast multiple rolls only to find myself back at your door i can lie to myself think that i’m strong a bad bitch a winner but i know that i’m wrong for reasons unknown you stabbed me up and i done you wrong we went our own way several times but always united by the love to our life immaturity by my side you took a shot and i had to take five and as time passes by the bitter salt crust seems to fall off i concede your advantage you have my heart
supposing
when i look at you
my heart inches toward a
possibility
Bell and Howell
the sun slides down
lays her golden head
on Dodger mountain
i look around the apartment
notice that i don’t have much
just a few books
electronic essentials
some cooking utensils
work files and water color trays
an old nonoperational
Bell and Howell
and i wonder
was it ever
my intention
to live like an old
widowed bitter sailor or
to be a neat little wife
to have douching schedules
and cook kosher Shabbat dinners
and worship at the west side Temple
roll with the punches like ladies do
claw at my chest with dignity
and gasp at the lukewarm horror
that Stanley cheated on Sherryl
while my praised dentist husband
works her very late most nights
or was it ever my intention
to be rich and famous
with lovers of all intersections
and gleefully snort exuberant amounts of blow
while getting handcuffed away to the station
wearing my sexy Nirvana ripped collar t shirt
now stuffed away in my mid week LA night
freckled with hoarse tooting car horns
and blinking half dead street lights
i breathe deeply and smile
wondering what my intentions
will be when i grow up
and painfully emancipate from this
spiritually bereft confusing mess
that squeezes me tight
as she coyly stands
quietly in front of
that old thrift store
Bell and Howell
Yucatan
The evening was cool and the calm was fuzzy and delightful. Abbey walked through the narrow door of 4302 and laid down a paper bag full of spices and stuff. She loved going to Grand Central market to gossip and catch up on the news of her world. Abbey asked if I was going home tonight because her boyfriend was coming over and she didn’t want him to pick a fist fight with me again.
I promised her that I would go to my friend’s house on the west side later tonight and asked her if she noticed anything different about her room. The Pine Sol fumes suckled her dainty caramel nose and licked in and out of her nostrils.
Thank you for cleaning mi reina, the smell takes me back to the valleys and rivers of my town in the Yucatan. Abbey had come to the US in the early 60’s on a travel visa and stayed. She started taking the dried Chiles, peppercorns, cumin and pumpkin seeds and chocolate bars out of the paper sack. Being a little high, watching her pluck each item out of the sack was like watching a jeweler study his precious stones.
Sitting back on the only chair in the room, I asked Abbey about her town in Mexico. She pursed her lips inward and let out an exhausted sigh. Staring at the dim lit ceiling she noticed the freeway knot of spider webs forming on the northern corner.
Abbey looked past the top of my head and stared of the Virgen of Guadalupe poster on the waxy wall. In a little girl voice she described the valleys as having shaded trees and cool patches of grass. The streams, as she remembered were cold enough to soak their beers and sodas when the families of the village would go pick-nicking on Sundays.
Abbey appeared lost and happy reminiscing about her country. Did you know that in the spring time we’d light big fires and because the temperature in the valley was still cold in March, the smoke looked like cloudy fumes against the pitch black sky. And the stars, Ave Maria purisima, the stars were so bright and when you saw them through the smoke fumes of the fires the whole thing looked like a fancy lace veil twinkling with diamonds.
In a melancholy tone I absent mindedly asked Abbey if she missed those nights with the firewood fumes and the stars and cool streams. She smiled wide enough that I could see her gold tooth as she looked down at her old beige pumps and she shook her head telling me no.
The door shook from four heavy thumps. Her boyfriend was in the hallway asking why the hell she wasn’t answering. Abbey cursed under her breath and ordered me to stay quiet and to leave as soon as she let him in. I tried asking her if she was going to be o.k. or did I need to alert Spare Cock.
my way…
the evening was cool and the calm was fuzzy and delightful Abbey walked through the narrow door of 4302 and laid down a paper bag full of spices and stuff she loved going to Grand Central market to gossip and catch up on the news of her world Abbey asked if i was going home tonight because her boyfriend was coming over and she didn’t want him to pick a fist fight with me again
i promised her that i would go to my friend’s house on the west side later tonight and asked her if she noticed anything different about her room the Pine Sol fumes suckled her dainty caramel nose and licked in and out of her nostrils
thank you for cleaning mi reina the smell takes me back to the valleys and rivers of my town in the Yucatan Abbey had come to the US in the early 60’s on a travel visa and stayed she started taking the dried chiles peppercorns cumin and pumpkin seeds and chocolate bars out of the paper sack being a little high watching her pluck each item out of the sack was like watching a jeweler study his precious stones
sitting back on the only chair in the room i asked Abbey about her town in Mexico she pursed her lips inward and let out an exhausted sigh staring at the dim lit ceiling she noticed the freeway knot of spider webs forming on the northern corner
Abbey looked past the top of my head and stared of the Virgen of Guadalupe poster on the waxy wall in a little girl voice she described the valleys as having shaded trees and cool patches of grass the streams as she remembered were cold enough to soak their beers and sodas when the families of the village would go pick-nicking on Sundays
Abbey appeared lost and happy reminiscing about her country did you know that in the spring time we’d light big fires and because the temperature in the valley was still cold in March the smoke looked like cloudy fumes against the pitch black sky and the stars Ave Maria purisima the stars were so bright and when you saw them through the smoke fumes of the fires the whole thing looked like a fancy lace veil twinkling with diamonds
in a melancholy tone i absent mindedly asked Abbey if she missed those nights with the firewood fumes and the stars and cool streams she smiled wide enough that i could see her gold tooth as she looked down at her old beige pumps and she shook her head telling me no
the door shook from four heavy thumps her boyfriend was in the hallway asking why the hell she wasn’t answering Abbey cursed under her breath and ordered me to stay quiet and to leave as soon as she let him in i tried asking her if she was going to be ok or did i need to alert Spare Cock
owl
it’s metal cold in the room stings the surface of the skin a little cheeks flushed 104 degrees cotton fever nothing new thoughts of owls race through the mind far away New Mexico hills in a trip that failed to yield once what was expected seconds hop scotch off the arms of the clock apparitions in white cheap cotton come to check numbers and pulses disgust visible on the face like dust on grandma’s table the owls again the color of wild grain bare footed running with the breeze and the bugs birds of all congregations there to sing solitary ears robbed it’s cold please don’t leave but please don’t touch the New Mexican hills spread out Triple A magazine cover left in the lobby by the father who lost his son the owl took him the Yaqui say fever breaks gauzy cloak frosted from the sin and ignorance lips shiver pale so pale and deformed thirsty for baptismal waters wild wild girl the apparitions come on time oh no it’s her again when will she die my taxes deserve to pay better societal debts please don’t touch the owl she’s my mother looking at me hoot hoot hoot synapse without soul blood without spirit apparition grab the leg and tug cruelly get up it groans tax liability get’s up roughly like a broken transmission New Mexican hills will not be reached like that good bye owl
King Eddy study (i)
riley-so how long you hangin out i’d like to show you somethin
grady-since you put it that way i might stay here and wash their plates
riley-Jesus woman you’re harsh i’m jus lookin for some fun i got let out of Wayside two days ago
grady-really i walked out of Tarzana this morning
riley-oh well yeah i was in for stealing cars and i punched my ol lady but it was self defense you see
grady-(forcing smile and nodding raising eye brows)
riley-so can you help me out a little you’re really cute i’m clean as a whistle too
grady-(forcing smile and nodding raising eye brows)
riley-you wanna beer
grady-no thanks i don’t like it
riley-(inching closer to grady and smiling) wuddah ya like then (wiggling eyebrows up and down)
grady-vodka
riley-ok yeah but afore we order drinks you wanna go out back to the alley we can poke around
grady-ummm what for what are we looking for
riley-(lets out frustrated giggle like Frank Booth) i mean to do it i’m horny you’re really nice
grady-yeah but no i’ll pass i’m waitin for my man you know there might be some good time girls on Central by 4th ask for Melva she’s cool people
riley-(pulls back looks at grady up and down) aint you a whore
grady-naw man i’m a college kid with lots of problems and lots of friends in very low and dark places (winks at riley) so get the fuck outta my face (forced smile sips ginger ale puffs at clove)
riley-(gets off bar stool as he sucks his teeth and looks grady up and down)so you think you’re better than me then huh stupid cunt
grady-(gives bouncer O’Neal the tap out look and blows kiss at riley)
words less spoken 