the pearls of her eyes
blend all of the life she’s seen
she cups a flower
Aging
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
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
old punk kid haiku
Danzig belts it out
my dark scrapbooks lay across
open to my life
twisted spine
my back is my strength
i sit with the moon at might
we both speak softly
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
vejo o reflexo
vejo o reflexo da minha alma num espelho de facto a dor paira entre o sangue do coração e a electricidade ela olha para mim e aprendo que está tudo bem sentar-se em silêncio por vezes e apenas sentir através
flipping BMW drivers
where did that young girl go with wild wild hair to the air wind Master goddess
i used to see her in her shredded dirty jeans skateboard and Vespa rider with a Red Hot Chili Peppers sticker on it
flipping BMW drivers transporting hair metal idols up that degenerate Sunset boulevard
she went to hand out scraps of food and sterile needles to those trespassers of the high falutin hills of Hollywood
laughing crying walking up the trails to the magically acoustic historical Bowl in the hopes of enticing young runaways to come and stay at the charity homes
touched forever by JMBs dinosaurs with lines roller skating on the canvas walls
to meet the hero in her mind and not to know if he sunk or rose after getting called to judgment
simple pleasure haiku
don’t fall to the ground
little honeysuckle bud
i’m not done sniffing
the road dogs
she sits there looking dazed pecking at her phone with her pink sea shell fingers
“they call me tre on account i only got three toes” she said in a proud laughter
she feels her way around the rim of her fancy thrift store jeans bought four years ago for ten bucks and donated by well bred college coeds from ANY THREE LETTER U
“i’m waiting for my road dog to help me do my laundry she’s the only one i trust we used to be drinking buddies back in the day tell me if my shoe stinks.” she stretches her tan prosthetic type shoe at my face i smelled nothing
with a distance in her blind brown eyes she asks if the blinds are open because the lights bother her she cusps an old Kleenex under her nose its allergy season
“can you hand me my eye drops they’re on the dinner table next to my dad’s diabetes pills did i tell you that he lost all of his toes and he might lose his left leg? we’ll know tomorrow.”
her head tilted down as if hoping her sad thoughts will seep out through tears of frustration as her father who named her after her own birth country was now struck down and she could no longer be daddy’s road dog either
words less spoken 