the
last
day
he
smiled
and
stood
quietly
to
feel
God’s
rainbow
bless
him
haiku for unit 213
Loneliness
para el 7
today they’ll bury the 7
and hell has now imploded
silence in his scream
the noise in between
rage and shame
dissipated away in the fog
there will be no match
in a durge to the bravado
of your life you way your death
today they will not bury
rage pain hate sting fate
helplessness is not charity
dignity is gambled away
your darkness washed away
clearing the way for come what may
larger than life
you taunted the death
which inevitably takes all of us
no more yells pounding beats fueled by broken ideals
with heart in hand
and blunt inhaled
triumphant in your world
yet crying on the dark side
of the moon
hoy enterrarán al 7
y el infierno ahora ha implosionado
silencio en su grito
el ruido en el medio
rabia y vergüenza
disipado en la niebla
no habrá partido
en un duro a la bravuconería
de tu vida tu camino tu muerte
hoy no enterrarán
rabia dolor odio picadura destino
impotencia no es caridad
la dignidad se juega
tu oscuridad se lavó
despejando el camino para lo que pase
mas largo que la vida
te burlaste de la muerte
que inevitablemente nos lleva a todos
no más gritos golpeando ritmos impulsados por ideales rotos.
con el corazón en la mano
y contundentemente inhalado
triunfante en tu mundo
aún llorando en el lado oscuro
de la luna
flower haiku
how do i tell the Moon
how do i tell the Moon that her Venus is gone
far from everything we know high away past the Pleiades and the Milky Way but always in the vicinity of higher power
how do i tell the Moon that her Venus is gone way past forever yet eternally interwoven in star dust and holy silent breaths caressing her head after she’s wept too much
how do i tell the Moon that her Venus is of such love magnitude that we can’t see her as she holds us in her loving arms ebbing and flowing us warmly in her arms
clouds with wires
i like my clouds with some wires
memories of kindergarten
Franklin’s kites and keys
corduroy jackets pigtails
i like my sky with blue infinity
endless forever high up
United Nations NPR
Joe Strummer high gas prices
wires are reminders to my eyes
finish lines running away from
eventually crossing them
grinning old girl am i
blue inks on papers change
trajectories of lives
bars in language community
null void twisted noise
clouds pure shamanic puff
feeding the ducks in Lincoln Heights
remember those we lost
immortalized on walls
ironically in life that’s all they’ve known
wires clouds blue sky songs
baking bread train track grease
cool wind cigarette butts
let my mind be silent today
processing. h
processing.g
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
moving on
night is here thank the heavens
your face in my mind quiet and rough
your hands calloused from life
your breath with no warmth
language rusted in your throat
the times are changing a Dylan song
you’d hum on your side of the room
i was not unique enough to worship
your love the accolades of poets
smithing words then catapulted into skies
to let the satellite cast your ego widely
and now we’re old but i not enough yet
the patina of good living never tarnished me
i too have a room no satellite just memory
no accolades just words fertile with thoughts to be
cyber Monday
cyber Monday tired long drive
random Target children crying wanting
mothers sighing fathers walking behind
cops strolling looking for something
not in particular looking plain
inside partly broken hard times
we all stare out far
our thoughts hidden polite smiles
riddled with worries this that
crimes in our head saddened
skies blue clouds fluffy right
still deepening in the heart
a desire to be upright
while looking inside of grief
snow is fake elves shelved
Palestine hurts Israel bleeds here
America sinks as she steps
on heads backs shoulders hands
the people we hang dangling
Betty Crocker’s ads cannot repair
the damage of those here
walking shopping pretending most wonderfully
to be free to do
to love to speak openly
but we’re not just drowning
underneath raging mad correspondents with
all the lies that linger
here at a random Target
on cyber Monday we are
words less spoken 