there is nothing there
my steps counted silently
the moon hides laughing
trees line the street
i hear women talking
the men stand aside
the entrance is behind
choosing to leave alone
without a choice again
sting of your lips
my mouth it burns
mind is quietly alert
the smile and hyacinth
you brought were shattered
on Spring street’s breath
DTLA
processing.g
standing ash haiku
i
love
my
womanliness
beautiful
ferocity
in
my
words
handwritten
walls beige and rainbow
thoughts amulets news casts
codes hushed by traffic
sometimes theres eyes awake
forever saluting the sun
prayers in LA dialect
if you know signs
if you dont why
music pain laughter light
mayhem fun petty crimes
stop sometime look above
release the delusional wish
where im gone
Sunday January city center we drink coffee and eat i wander through the paths lined with counters and men with steam tables full of tacos and paper hats from another puritanical time when under your floors we got away with naughty things and Tommy gun rounds i smell the 40s in the maize pastrami sushi air while twinkling organic trinkets catch their shines in the corner of my eyes as they move to the ceiling fans keeping my ghosts a few inches above the ground old and new we merge in agreement and dissolve in short spurts of peace
twenty 3 twenty 4
another year passed
tonight we’ll hear the empty blast
party boys and girls midwife
another year that’s filled with strife
but i promise you this
my lady queen city you bitch
we will be happy and cry together we might
the cellophane kings who think they’re in charge
will continue to wallow in false putrid paradise
as you and i queen city your people
shall rise
trident to the sky
the last of the daylight cracked through the building sides one could tell it was after 5 pm the watermelon sized baby rats were out for their breakfast
she laid down to think of Jupiter her drug crooked back to the pavement scrawny bedazzled legs extended upward on the art building wall hieroglyphs of desperate youth her eyes scanned like Oklahoma driver’s radio then she noticed her left boot lost its heel the right boot had none to begin
sooty mullet waxy matted with environmental phlegm coughed out by bullshit talkers she looks toward the up and the moon tries to enter her nightly stage but as always held back by adoring tongue wagging angels watching for a ghetto bird sting
now stretched legs stiff uncrossed arms posed around her ribs she aches slightly the shallow in her breath helps to stave off those unaffordable desires that quickly become her monster jaws grinding she settles noticing a lone cluster of plastic hydrangeas bleached by the satellites looking down as a cherub babe
her soul comes and goes from door to door looking for a score body limbs head torso dirty flesh colored blanket 100th hand Betsey Johnson gym bag mildewed Wet n’ Wild goth girl pallet from 1985 somewhere between Hollywood and Union Station the overlay has lasted 20 years
the streets cacophony of laughter and cries lights scream to her good byes cop cars dog fights stabbings overdosed doves starvation American relief fleeing from here the NARCAN generation paper plate nutrition styrofoam hydration we recycle ourselves shallow is her breath brow sweats but no bread
inside hep C rots necessary functions ulcers void of burn no food no internal bleeding red cross she’s nailed to it the drums somewhere in Africa a cradle hands outlined in caves a body engulfed in darkness a mind she remembers remaining there
without knowing she’s there legs cramped stiff against the wall forever head reborn again sewer water baptized her eyes closed chest deep in its stillness head cocked to her right shoulder the angel of it won
ugly poem
ugly poem
heaven i through iii
words less spoken 