sour wafts from the tip of your lips
you’ve been drinking since 5 43 am
vodka on my stretched out thermals
me drinking for more than a dozen days
i like the thunderstorm in your eyes
you caress the purple around my mouth
with gentle butterfly kisses
closed doors closed hearts
are never good you said
as i laughed at your motions of a saint
secretly fumbling with each others hurts
not from my lovers knuckles or the baseball bat scars from your soon to be ex wife
mere hurts and trepidations from yesteryears gone by
sloppily we kiss
hungrily you part me open
mounting what’s left of me
slightly the moon strikes
your sleeping face
as i hide mine between your shoulder blades
my thoughts drift into Croce’s bottle just for this night
Little Tokyo
Charlie’s cough
Charlie grew weaker
from the old
1940s window pane
i’d hear him
then one dusk
in September nothing
a few days
passed i rummaged
the building’s trash
casually looking for
unexpected art supplies
it seemed Charlie’s
kin tossed out
everything that he
possessed and of
no advancement for
them pedigreed relatives
yet in my
quest for treasure
troves i found
from Ohio an
old Glessco bottle
spread the WLS
spring day LA stop light haiku
dragonfly
blue
green
car
windshield
smog
begging
man
time
passed
through
wire
spread the WLS
composing a dirge
shame
like a flower
blush
bleed the rain
silence
hums the snow
thrust
against complacent waves
dusk
winter grows tired
morning
falls like silk
tired
rest now still
spread the WLS
our Grady of perpetual (fill in the blank)
original picture by Rob Banks
spread the WLS
in one twenty twenty one
they the prophets write
words chilling to think all through
numb symbols of prole
could it be they be
saviours with synthetic inks
prayers that result
tragedy smiling
far out into the clouds go
fumes of redemption
season of promise
idols showing their true forms
flowers in the eyes
mother of pearl moon
tonight the uncertainty
oozes out surely
spread the WLS
ulcer
acid rain drop tear
eye field of grain
gypsy cloth for burial
standing we don’t stop
just beyond the starline
shelter roof of water
floor of heaven hell
grew cold of waiting
ulcer in the chiding
mouth of goddess in
between the deaths of
lives less killed our
candied bitterness let’s build
a temple maybe five
before the swallows fly
back stoned to nests
tipping over ashes was
the flowers of my
bed in hair graying
spread the WLS
La Nina
Mural painted over boards protecting storefront from looters in Little Tokyo.
spread the WLS
non sequitur zoo
go to the junction where the crow caws and feel like coffee grounds are sacred don’t trample them with emotional support gobblers in the wind do you think pterodactyls clucked the motor is stuck in the mud skipper makes no whistling rattles die they steal watermelon slices from the post man in Cairo i don’t think so but Henrietta will investigate the portfolios of one hundred gazelles with tiny hooves drilling and crunching across the moss that could potentially grow in the Sahara over by the airport where the sea gulls screech holding up old ladies for their drinks pigeons collect the Groupon deals cooing at the seams of insanity
spread the WLS
dude’s stall politics
words less spoken 