the bear caves ripe with shade i go in every night somnambular in waking life there are traces and clues of human nature on the forest floor naked toes step on glass butts used condoms as they make their movement toward the yawning door the bears and zoo have left this wing and moved half a mile to a chic man made compound the trees are pink flamingos brown and the cotton candy makes me blue as i am old but living young the monkeys still amaze me i pet the deer and drool at tigers staring up at me after my tender heart has over flowed with spots on the giraffes backs i go to have a drink and i keep drinking on for days dying in my own captivity
thanks, Toots
dear Reina Señora de Los Ángeles
thank you for the myriad places
that sprang forth from your womb
beautiful whore open to all
from east north west south
thank you for your alleys overgrown with trash
and dirty smoky bars that only take cold cash
thank you for the pruned faced
multinational hookers
who tuck until they’re blue
and thanks for Hillel’s guitar
and X and punk rock hungry bands
i love to look at my reflection
in the puddles of the damned
and thank you for letting me slip away
from La Chata and La Sad Girl at Lil Chuy’s wake
thank you for the tacos sushi and McRib
colonics pilates and knock off designer shoes
and the beggar at every freeway exit
who cleans my windshields with his shame
thank you for the Salvadoran Iranian and Korean
who managed to call the fire men
to save the homeless Viet Nam veteran
while the GOP and DNC
squabble over shit
my Queen misguided angels by your feet
thank you for my complexity
for surviving my last fix
i appreciate you looking over me
thank you for the high end malls
fake nails lip fillers fat cell freezers
and my beloved 99 cent stores
the beaches and the valleys
the mountains and the roads
and for all the hardened gutters
you softened for me to sleep in
the soul we are your people
good bad papered or unwrapped
we are all your seeking children
but i’m your only brat
tallith
at moon’s end
i find myself
trying to stitch
back together
what i so vehemently
spent so many years
tearing apart
the light is subtle
too feeble for me to thread
needles of apology
remorse or redemption
yet i continue on
finger tips pale
pricked by bitter reminder
of gaping tears
i tore into the fabric
of decency and self-dignity
with offerings of woolen prayers
i attempt to mend and patch
a heart sullen with snags and rips
to no avail
on most any day
then every so often
the rays of light
knit me a magnifying glass
and in subtle ways
i toil at weaving
a better human fabric
for myself
of which i make offerings
of tzitzit embroidered with the shame
of tails in between my walking legs
with seams of hope
that mercy will be granted
at the ending of my new day
aerial was i
twilight is a little jagged
rays of Sun’s arms
tremble as Earth opens his
blue doors to her
the marriage bed set
and i’m growing my wings
to fly in the mocha of the night
he beckons my common senses
and i dive into a certain
constructed abyss
my back it labors
as the vestiges
of alabaster hued flight
carries my sins away
then just as quickly
as the virgin blossoms
my wings disappear
into the waking Sun
her face beaming with hope
and as night and i
we go our different ways
my back rested
city aflame
my life clean slated
soul light as a feather
stella mori
universe so dark
just like in my room tonight
stars so far away
a prodigal’s tithe
i bring forth a gift
humble but frail in its heart
gratitude for life
a conversation
i remember that garage
atop of the Echo Park hill
pretty in spring
bikes built to thrill
now my hands empty
mind full of memories
that fueled my entire life
the end nears by
we come close now to the station
we could never use words
only cryptic sensations
what sets me apart from the Godly
she asks
i can’t forgive what’s been done
i explain
all that is left
are two daughters
and a conjoint broken heart
cheveux indisciplinés
i love the color of my hair
brown red and in some places pink
my tired legs and lined filled hands
eyes that stare flat beyond the sky
and a mind that has lost the hard shell
of youthful indulgence and inexperience
i love my lips still round and plump
and the new found freedom
of spouting my own thoughts
that are crafted with the filigree of wisdom
i love my face
oh those expression lines
that will never be usurped by botox
my cheek bones high and tight
to frame a genuine smile at the wind
i love my hair when she gets wild
and i walk the streets of Beverly Hills
stroll in the Rolls Royce isles
worn out Chucks with the strategic tears
where the toes are too tight
salesmen follow me with Lysol cans
and their neat white gloves
that eradicate the traces of the hoi polloi
the hair a right of passage glorious
furious bright riot
reminding me that my agedness
is a catalyst to the third eye lens
from where i can finally see
the dimensions of the world
the good and the bad
and really only give a damn
about the moments that matter
one night on Marengo st.
an emergency room is not an ideal place to sleep while you might not get beat up you might catch the flu or get arrested but sometimes you get to see the city in its an entirety a representative from all walks of life and we all stew in our vulnerability suddenly everyone hurts farts groans wails yells angers saddens and feels life in their gut like a cheese grater or wrecking ball if you’re on the gurney gunshot wound to the back easily a kid or a pregnant woman bleeding bad God’s credibility comes to question why did He allow this but my logic doesn’t go down that pussy route going nowhere i know that God is God with no need for anyone especially not someone the likes of me instead i wonder why that kid wasn’t at home at three in the morning was his mom turning tricks did he have a fight with his father or the bleeding woman with half a baby coming out her Oscar De La Renta ball gown while her husband’s wearing a Rolex what the hell is going on i wonder could i have prevented this how am i connected to these souls did i vote the right way did i pick the correct door my eyes dry out as i weep inside the x-ray room while they rearrange my arm loss is loss i feel inside my own insanity and so with dawn i’m finally gone and greet the sun upon the bridge while the train whistles blow as i turn to my left hoping that nothing else goes wrong for the ones left on the emergency room floor
the functionalism of dandelions
supple eddies of wind
caress and tickle the yellow
little matted heads
and their thin arm stems
shooshes it away
they stand firm rooted in packs
patchy green grass
sprinkled with crinkly caramel leaves
some dandelion families
those of five and six
adopt a stray apple tootsie roll candy wrapper
that found its way from Halloween
a few rebellious dandies flourish
in one and two and they grow up pretty hardy
before being crushed under a running boy’s tennis shoe
i like those that grow up nice and tall
with shiny pea green fuzzy stems
that little Mexican girls harvest on a Sunday
to place on the altar of the Virgin mother
when they end their day in church
then there’s the really rugged ones
with sparsely yellow tufts
they are angry little spiky things
surrounded by the trash cans
punctured by the littering
wrapped in sheets of rust
those end up having to bear the brunt
of needy cats and dogs
looking for a litter box
