sometimes my convictions are
not enough to soothe
the pain of the
weight of life so
i go into my
closet dig in my
cardboard box where i
keep the rosary i
found in the mud
behind one of the
homes i grew up
sometimes my convictions are
not enough to soothe
the pain of the
weight of life so
i go into my
closet dig in my
cardboard box where i
keep the rosary i
found in the mud
behind one of the
homes i grew up
inside between the breastplate and the heart there’s a tiny little nook with an itsy blue butterfly her name is soul and she came to be in the mountains of Kashmir when the atoms were still babes blue prints in the grand masters eyes soul lodges there time immemorial and waits measures holds back explodes forward what the mind judges to do at times mostly in the dead of night soul flutters a little spirit revs up becoming restless and soul makes it right she spreads here sky blue wings to dry the tears welling in my eyes blue soul corner stone of secrets and filter of the lies the weary life the prices paid to walk in fields of grandeur right before crystalline morning comes mind rages war on blue life soul her wings crushed under a stream of poison
the cattails sway slow
resin sun settles down deep
she has blazed all day
moon in silver comes
knocking at my back window
dig his Elvis suit
then E Piaf croons
tears brim in my tired eyes
never did i miss
you so much as i
do now even with all of
our misunderstood
way of saying words
to drive each other away
fearing that our hearts
would be ripped apart
by anemic attempts to
share a normal life
you the older one
did not necessarily
know best i was young
i did not know that
fucking my way through real love
in time would never
heal our broken parts
still not all was a failure
truth and wine reveal
endlessness of night
honeysuckle’s soft weeping
stars dull one by one
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
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
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
anticipation
mounts about our face
devastation came too soon
loneliness smiles wide