dew drops shape
coffee slowly drips
from the hallway foot steps fall
Cortana plays old time country tunes
the gray cat her ocean green eyes watch me write words that will remain unspoken
Bunker Hill
ojo de venado
for the most part
this Spring has been bland
the honeysuckle doesn’t woo me
the curiosity has dried from my heart i don’t read how i used to
Bad Brains or the good Reverend Horton Heat don’t sound to me like they used to way back when
there is an apostate strand of DNA to the right of my interior
the witching hour sticks at me like when Ladd Jr soccer kicked a wasps nest
i’m weak and can’t believe anymore my demons know they’re close to laughing last
my molars are ground down tear ducts parched i don’t have mercy for me
God i can’t feel You next to me how lost i feel tonight
there is a world that got away the war is done but i’m still trapped in this fucking battle
numb and cursed moss eyed doe i think i’ve plucked my own eye out
perhaps it’s just nature and my time has come to grow a beard
perhaps Noemi has gone away her angel’s don’t sit and play poker smoking big cigars like she said
it’s 4:37 am
no one wants me nor do they wish me anything any which way
click
strike
lit
gurgle
pour
clink
suck
blow
gulp
there’s an Aztec sunrise ceremony on channel 2
my belief in magic’s gone
wine
sweet age she nestles between the folds of my skin
the blurred mirror tells my tales
eyes dark yellow swamp colored crystalline with dew
tears they have emotion encoded through the years
my lips pucker and it’s my grandmother who i see eye brows raised a little my mother stares at me
and when the scrutiny of French soap is through only a jaundiced blush peeks on my face
reminders of past lovers’ livid strikes
youth you silly delirium pills spirits powders and glues substitutes for reality during a time when lies were truths
aged lady time i have always loved you a dumb girl Don Juan begging for you be merciful old girl my bones are soft and wine however fine was rarely a comfort
this hill of mine beloved of Fante and i oh do you remember the sliding down rolling banshees trust fund empties
ah i talk too much i have been dying since Eve’s creation was not being born the original abomination
time please cloak that mirror i don’t want to be trapped in my memory of wiping bloody sorrow from my face and from the face of my mothers
time can i ever forgive myself
cowboy Earl
gold tooth black Stetson hat
a shitload of loitering tickets and pink assless chaps
he was from Mississippi grew up on bad land
menfolk took his innocence his momma shot herself
we both sit by the parrot tree looking cross the street at the hipsters in the street meat taco line
as if he’d quip every now and again
how’d you become a cowboy Earl
that’s a personal question Grady
cool i’d say passing the Batman portable bong his way
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
stone
a line followed not straight feet hollowed out by the bumps of life
a beat heard faintly like a radio sign from outer space on a kids ham radio
intuition dimmed heavy without direction like broken jade frowning atop the china cabinet
a kiss blown by aging beauty queens to the princess up and coming
young girl twirling on a pole old man staring at her bones she thinks of tea sets and raggedy Ann doll he thinks of the life he once so loved who is buried six feet under
the flowers radiant pinks and red stems green and full of life across a dirty street i sooth dry skin and raise my glass to Martha
a polvo regreso
yo se que será el último beso
que juegas conmigo como juegan la lotería
entiendo que solo soy una muñeca fea
pero de algo te sirvo tal vez
con las cicatrices que me he ganado
comprare respeto y felicidad yo sola puedo
y cuando veo que es tu llamada
no tengo fuerza de correr de ti
tus brazos me empujan a los cielos
tus ojos ruegan que quede en infiernos
tu cobardía destruirá mi espíritu y alma
viento triste y penitente me nombrara Camilla
a pó retornar
Eu sei que será o último beijo
que você joga comigo como eles jogam na loteria
Eu entendo que sou apenas uma boneca feia
mas eu estou servindo você talvez
com as cicatrizes que eu ganhei
Eu vou comprar respeito e felicidade eu sozinho posso
e quando eu vejo qual é o seu chamado
Eu não tenho forças para fugir de você
seus braços me empurram para o céu
seus olhos rezam para que esteja no inferno
sua covardia vai destruir meu espírito e alma
vento triste e penitente vai me chamar de Camilla
to the dust i return
i know it will be the last kiss
that you play with me like they play the lottery
i understand that i’m just an ugly doll
but maybe i’m serving you
with the scars that i have earned
i will buy respect and happiness i alone can
and when see that it’s your call
i have no strength to run from you
your arms push me to the heavens
your eyes beg that i stay in hell
your cowardice will destroy my spirit and soul
sad and penitent wind will name me Camilla
-para John Fante com admiração
flickering light
no space to contain this fear without the barriers it spills over to all the sides no phosphorescent mother there to catch no father to teach the scintillant way in the dark vulnerable to clichés and warnings and the debility of all that is to come and to suffer all that has passed by in the backwards of time to stoop over rotten corpses writhing in the dark of their own making in the tallest buildings to the bottom of the last sewer there i am locked away un-oxygenated still passing through the underground to someday explode into a frozen river of life that is encrypted with the secrets that have lost the wonder on the back of one man
words less spoken 