in plain sight

humming birds cooed outside your tiny trailer

not a coincidence

French café table coffee can ash tray

the drying bamboo shoots

tender green leaves into the cool air

some nights looking

out from the yellow laundry room window

the sparks from the

slender lit cigarette mimics the fire flies

that live in

the imagination of a confused neglected child

old brown eyes know

they are watched and relish the thought


there she is

bright bold with golden arms

the lady who comes to purify my blood

just 2 hours and 34 minutes in the past

did the he moon with his mariachi suit

cry with me because he is a gentleman

we had clinked tequila glasses

while he kissed my hands

but with each step Zorya takes toward my window

i’ve come to prefer the strong espresso roast

dark heavy smoldering like your heart

you prefer to sleep

after quaking and quivering through my mounds

and when your eyes come open wide your armor

will cover you again

as i remain the faithful wench

in the china cup where the gold has chipped off

filled with mud and some manipulative tears

my cigarette will drown in sorrow

so i walk into the bathroom

to wash your sheep’s odor

off my she wolf fur


i cant go to the hospital now ive got to come down its just that he made me so mad why do i do this to myself ive got to replace the mirror God im out of control i have an exam tomorrow maybe if i sleep but the blood isn’t stopping if i curl up by the toilet i might not wake up ive got to wait and come down the ceiling is cotton candy lies my skin floats like a lily pad he’s right but why does he cheat he should just leave but we need each other i need to lay down he hurts me so bad just like my mother i feel most alive in pain without it i don’t feel im dead but this isn’t right maybe church but they would judge me i need help the blood is finally clotting i don’t like how i look his other woman looks like the magazine girls im not worth all of this but i have some pride he knows ive never sucked any dick for my junk i don’t think our society circle can say the same for him no they are good people to me at least they listen and were all lost together i wish this was a dream i wish i was real i wish i could disappear how do i do this maybe im just a salty little cunt ok i broke the mirror because i don’t like what i see im not ready to say where it all began i don’t know if i will ever be Lord im walking through the valley of the blackest shadows i hear the laments of others too i cant feel you anymore Rabbi

it’s just a phase

the drops fall warm

like a resentful first kiss

placed crookedly on my lips

two broken children

dressed in archaic cloaks of sinful fathers

embalmed in summer rain

clasping hands in the park

you pointed at fancy bricks laid by FL Wright

your hero

we heard laughter from in the trees

we filled our heads with fantasy

of being greater than dirty jeans

booze coke

and motorcycles

what fools we were

but happy in our foolery

we’d stomp round town

wild haired green eyed queen

to her mohawked crowned king

while in the dampness of the night

we went our separate ways

on the dimly lit corner by House of Pies

to harvest broken proper mothers

up from their latest shag designer carpets

flown in from Rome

and as we punched our way through

explosive broken fathers

on Monday morning

we’d all pretend that our lives were wonderful

MAT gala

by 4:30 in the morning id be standing in line at the MAT with about 20 others in front of me Barbara wore pink and red when id see her every other day plus holidays if needed there was a shine to the clinic’s sea shell pink linoleum floor tiles learning to hone my ADD mind to the specks of tan and baby blue accents on the tiles id imagine that i was at the bottom of a fish tank i noticed that on Thursday mornings the floor was freshly waxed as the foot prints of my ragged American flag high top Chucks were captured on the surface it fascinated me at times but more often than not i felt shame wondering if this would be the only place id ever leave my mark the tired medical staff started the dosing at 5:30 and then you could wait a bit to see your therapist Barbara was one of the first transgender people id ever met she was really tall and with huge feet a blond wig like Charo’s nest sat atop her head Barbara’s eyes were jet black and big as prunes i loved her caramel skin and wondered about everything that might have made her decide to follow this path the little scars on her face and limbs weren’t caused by happy childhood memories like falling off your bike or whatever Barbara was obviously a warrior on days that we managed to find two empty chairs next to each other she’d tell me about the tricks she’d turn and how rent was getting crazy i was a dumb kid half my nights were spent in bushes at Pershing Square i didn’t know about life or rent and i was lucky enough to not have to turn to trickery during the holiday season i wanted to give Barbara a red lipstick that i had bought from Estee Lauder Barb was really nice to me she walked with my soul through the valley of the shadow of LA after three missed visits i found out through “one fuck” Clark another clinic patron and a one hit porn wonder i guess that’s where the “one” came from that Barbara got busted for hooking and was at County cooling off for a bit i drew hearts and skulls in the bathroom later with the fancy lipstick


kiss shining like ice

across my throat you stroke me

nibble at my breast

lick at my deep thoughts

groan together at the moon


mounts about our face

devastation came too soon

loneliness smiles wide

at the Smog Cutter

and so as not to dis the etiquette of my new found tribe i too partook of the shit on a shingle entrée… Saturday night with nothing to do i strolled down two quarter blocks on Virgil Avenue and turned left to order ginger ale from the one the guys called Mama San we were all AA students but the boys chose to ditch school 5 days a week they talked about the evils of malt liquor as they drank down their rye sharing army stories of the war in Viet Nam they hazed me into conversation but all i could muster was having read about Iran/Contra in current events for my 9th grade dissertation i called Susi over and asked for the check slipping off the bar stool they executed a synchronous head turn im not a drill sergeant i thought to myself i wiped my space dry with my over stretched sleeve and the guy with a Teamster’s Cap circa 73’ offered a story about Buffalo Springfield my stoic face gave me away and two old timers said i was a kid i sat back up and ordered Red Bull on the rocks knowing it would be a battle the Rolodex of my mind spun and whirred i lightly joked about Neil Young and Crazy Horse clarifying i got their CD from Target the soldiers they all had a chuckle detonating the wrinkles of suffering ingrained on their face i rammed through their barrier with my praise of Stevie Ray Vaughn and i wrapped up my ambush with a very harrowing rendition of Fortunate Son and as the cigarette smoke lifted their silhouettes shifted to a comfortable slump and they ordered some food so the party could start

2 steps

drift to sleep

under the hazy sky

blue cowboy boots

laying down in my truck

Twinkie crumbs

on the corners of my mouth

my left braid coming undone

the memory comes in chunks

hope to sleep

under a halogen light

no shoes or socks

stuffed into the couch

kale smoothie

not on my tongue

my mane’s too tame

the thoughts torn asunder

one tear at a time

the curtain flaps in the clumsy breeze

my heart beats down

the coolness of the aging day

appears to release the hope evading me

it is alright now

i accept what came and went

in the treks of time today

my face has become stronger

the longing has receded like the curtain

in that room where history is made

and played out in my head

one tear at the time

the wind at 6 a.m.

i guess now i have to haul

ass on my own. my dog, my tree,

my home, my life. all put away,

in the chambers of my heart.

damn it woman. how can it go on?

i chase your scent, the ring in your

sound. the laugh in the rain, the pound

in your heart. and there i stand.

though broken i am not. i never said anything

to this thought. but you who made me whole,

when i said i could no more. you made me move.

in a direction in front of me.

the wind walks on rice paper. no trail of

you i see. footsteps in the river of

forgiveness washing me free, today and forever.

this is what you left for me.

as i sit alone in this bed of

my own humanity. i feel your touch of love

and there is a 6 a.m. in every hour. you are

in the sun, the moon, the stars, the fog.

you are in the laughter of my

sons and the tenderness of my daughters.

your steel of spirit in the doves on

city cables. in the potted sage.

put me in my proper place,

when you receive me in His kingdom.

until then coffee and cigs;

6 a.m. in life unrepentant.

-to Jane and Hank-