i am here on Hope street in a liquor store its open because its essential outside is a sickness it’s been here all of my life remember when i was young and fearless and unattached now i’ve fallen in love with life and have everything to lose my priorities have changed so bloody much i ran myself into the ground now i’m dying to break free dear postcard with the ultra blue ocean pearly shore electric green palm trees and skinny bikini girl with exaggerated tits remember when i was young and my freedom was a tether to a wild wild road now reluctantly i am here masked ten miles from my home gloved lying to the cashier about needing sanitizer and candy bars fiji water and a box of cheap cigars for my diabetic neighbor the sickness deep in my blood hypnotically stares at the bottles in the case here at the crossroads again postcard i write on you a note for help living one day at a time has become a slippery hell
Alcoholism
bostrensis
he
an iris
me an iris
too
my petals
black like opal
he
a soul
of mother pearl
me
my mouth
is opened wide
he
his iris
ready to strike
the
mystery inside
my nectar tunnels
moon
hangs low
Orion looks away
iris
i still
bloom in silence
he
an iris
too our lives
are
now divided
sun lit cold
good morning Sylvia
unlike swans she said
no gracefulness in the step
should i drink from jars
le dive bar
neon beer signs
fire door mural cop
harassing drunk patron junk filled basement
last heyday in 1950s
cheap luncheon bar feed
John Fante tattoo
don’t eat the nachos
jukebox no one can hear
two whores boxing
wino pissing
across the street
one shoe on the other
hanging from the wire
that brought the city down
they work on instinct
they are all prison taught
he whispered candy ass freaks
tell me to suck their dick
just for walking on their street
chasms blur all out
the kingdom gone
the will be fickle
find the beauty
of the bones
encased in jaundiced laughter
roman candle
snow fire light thunder the hummingbird speaks
the peacocks have been here for all time just their beauty royal blue tears
heart desires stretching reaching for infinite nothing it seems
i stare the moon frowns at me a spotlight on my shame most gracious lady my eyes downturn
pain and mystery are beautiful holy at times demonic only at someone else’s pleasure
if He wept at His abandonment who then am i to complain
agonizing rainbow look me in the eyes roses die in mid December
that all of treasure’s soul lays bare the blood not on the spear this time but splattered all to see
that a twisted existence didn’t always weave and the past a few exceptions made
that leads me to this Maypole game where spirit and soul are sewn into the coat of many colors
to light the sky in flames of glory and my spark to soar on angels’ arms
for Hunter S
cavalo branco
a
run i desire
freedom between the old bricks
legs bent pale tired
b
morning frost soft wind
my brittle neck is tied tight
my heart turns timid
c
freedom is the blood
gallop on fire of strength
now i won the race
rouge
hot rhythm
pulses my middle
heat kisses my begging thighs
lava tongue spinning salacious
rivers of lust along my woman valley and into the navel of my heart
patience
with warm scarlet tears
she sits sometimes she glances
rosebuds slowly yawn
to miss
my ears have heard
words and utterances
some warm some cold sharp void of life
i fill a dropper full of lies and squeeze them in my eyes
but they roll out eventually
the heart can’t be made a fool even if it’s mine
i haunt the streets and alley ways i pick at crates and smoke away the vision of a miserable creature
whose love just ran away and left her with no direction
in my nightmare the flying carpets are ubiquitous and free
the torment starts when you stop by to tell me about my sorrows
the roses pluck at their own thorns as if they know i won’t come back tomorrow
the water
i cannot bend the water she has a linear will
looks inside my burning soul and snuffs the air from me the water will not bend as black clouds drenched in loss soak up the golden lights
the acids in the wicked hearts will never bend as well they only carve out empty space for bloody floods to fill
i cannot bend the tiny drops forming round my eyes while walking on a ground that screams for me to grind it down
industry analysts of war cell phone master fighters possessive of the scores
i won’t ever be able to bend the water the lusciously maddened by her waves we hunger for some more it’s best to surrender to her cleansing bosom and evaporate into the sandy dunes
words less spoken 