Lou remember me from the nose bleeds at the Greek
among the stars and trees you sang about magic loss and happenstance
we were together in LA
no one thought about the irony of your songs or the tragedy in the sparks of people keeping people down forever the sigils of history warn
that night when the heirs raised their fisted hands for some questionable victims
the silver spoon afternoon faculty culture bunch joined the fun to line their vote pouch
the loss streamed with hemorrhaging velocity happenstance remained the same
under controlled televised well made up coiffed dos they watched her burn five days the news ministers said
yet we were all born simmering
Lou i left the forest and i left you
to feel the burn wicked with the same fire of Pharaoh and Baba-ato
the Tlatoani and Xia and Shang
but in modern America Lou we both agree we prefer to do it Roman style
FREE VERSE REVOLUTION writing prompt
erosion
my roots never grew
i stayed for a little while
then climbed on the first wind
that blew through this soul of sand
my grains turned pale gray
tumbling through this earthen hourglass
alone in the company of droves
of other discarded lonely vagabonds
from what i gathered
love had stopped rooting at the dunes
when i finally got there
the other stars
at night with the party of stars
the stars in the sky i mean
i sit in quiet tender happiness
on the summer eve sidewalk of Sunset and Vine
my eyes scan the shoes
some old some new
there is history in the step
some style some regrets
at night when traffic dies
buses groan and open their doors
warm freon stink hisses
no one exits they just sit
my hands play
with blue Bic pens and loose sheets
their surface wrinkled tears
happiness of simple truths recorded there
at dawn barley curtains fall
the stars have took their bows
coffee’s bitter cocoa moan
stirs my knees and center
in the newness of the old city yawn
where i died lived and was born
onto this place where my soul has soaked in this world is my happiness
adentro
mirror in my eyes
i haven’t seen in years
there’s been a silent blindness
blocking off my sight
the heart she braces
my inward glance
poppies gold and red
flicker in the wind
a lock of tender hair
across my face
a smile greets the come what may
pupil to pupil reflecting back
truths in simplicity
in preparation
time sits on the shelves
next to all the dreams
just an index finger’s length
out of reach
her side of the wall
sustains the portraiture
of her bloodline
his side the world’s articles of hate
never knowing of each other
going about their life
the wall that separates them both
in between the unseen darkness waits for them
patiently there void of light
and when that time marches from its sitting place again
to guide their souls into the other world
the ego skin from them will finally be shed
someone’s snapshot
who might this stranger be
he stares into my eyes
i’m as sure as one day i will die
that i will never meet him in the flesh
there see in the stillness
Of his shot all of the grays blacks and whites
the wrinkles on his face
i imagine hold a code of his life in microcosm
just for me to read the glance it tells tales
of other places so far away that those skies are of an undiscovered blue
and his smile it fills me with mooshiness inside
because i feel the fibers of his soul
rough on the surface but softer as you deeper go
and when he touches a petal or waves or strums a cord
i too can touch wave and strum internally
is that what it means to live
available but not to you
your expectations wants demands tactics tricks and commands are just a mirage
i too can do unto others but i choose not to i am at the disposal of my mind heart and soul exclusively
i break barriers and ceilings with the ultra sonic boom of my love quietly in the middle of time and my shed tears turn into diamonds
from my breast i nourish innocents the army of all
with a turn of my fingers i knit the cloth to shield innocents from the darkness of your claws
for Chester and Chris
it had been there
just around the corner
behind my left shoulder blade
it stayed through threshold
of the neo natal dawn
new like a kitten’s innocent purr
it was there quiet
like the other side of the edge
of that one last breath
it was there like Los Angeles smoke
silent thick cryptic with danger
then it showed itself to the mirror
of my soul
it moved as a molasses crescendo
choking me
too many door knobs closets
reminders silent distant
but hard hitting cold blade
walk past the hall red couch
sit i do heaved tear monsoons
afraid no more an impossible miracle
chest tight bruised palms
from the terror
vetting contingency plans of how not to let it loose
a christening awry
in the beginning was the word
as i unfold beneath my mother’s water
there i am suspended
in the middle of my death
beneath the water
where the all of my love
must now reside
beneath the water
and i heard the wind say
twixt the trees and the bush
and the word was with Him only
then my father spoke prickly and grotesque a gruesome eye opening
black doves in the dream led something in me to scream beneath that water
when that something of a passing breeze separated from the flesh of me
it said that the word was God
and i chose to fall back beneath that dark blue water
while upon my dubious rising
my arms stretched out
to the sinking of the sun
seed of pulp
melodies melt through the creamy walls
the night hot
the asphalt angry almost boiling
the sizzle of her heel
i can hear it
she comes near
the steps bend soft like wax
up she floats
i can almost see her
dressed in spicy orange
moist with musks
muffled stomps rushed then slowed
he stops
i can’t hear the locks
but i know he’s turning them
like a perky breast
almost rolling the knob
on the tips of his fingers
that smell like Cuban cigar
Hollywood is burning tonight
we sweat wilt run into our mattress
it doesn’t matter
the chords are taught
the hydras groan at him
from her fake jeweled throat
he has to convince a beautiful beast
that if she stays for a few hours
he can be more of a man
than he is now
bottles cheap dusty and old
like his hands
her purse sags from cheap makeup
and the volume of her in between tears
Hollywood has burned before and yet it rises
nothing novel in any of our eyes
now a cricket here
a dog bark farther
a few clicks on my type writer
the sun is coming up
i too swig from my dusty vials
words less spoken 