water cold serene

then the holy light appears

rebirth i am pure

dying between closing arguments



with few steps

happy with the

choices i have made they belong to me

unpopular turns delinquent alike

options were mine





that my


is steady all

ready to go come the wave of infernal

positioned to strike with white hot venom

for mercy and

dripping with



dissecting the Geneva Convention

the summer is what it is here

the humidity clinging to my tired skin

like a crazy 50’s t.v. wife mockery

on Wall there’s the law and then there’s us

each side with glaring mutual understanding

that nothing is being done

no longer angels no longer devils

Gods gone fishing and they won’t be coming back

the species of Adam failed to keep their end of the

Covenant with Noah and Jesus holy shit what have we done

in life there is reason and there’s law

inside the soul there is right and there is wrong

inside the ego all is mine and nothing yours

on Koehler there is a man who doesn’t know he suffers

the fear he knows not himself prisoner of

the bio-hazardous ecosystem freedom gone awry

the filth the human shit the rage the insanity disease

the pain addiction poverty starvation piss trash

tears the waste of modern time

no longer get through the stains of a life

poorly lived or sorely wasted no logic

no feelings no rhyming no Kingdom will come

betwixt the cardboard and the shelter

the damage has been done

wage on me wage your wars

indifference is your nuclear weapon

middle c

when the dirt on my shoes

starts to click the pavement

i go to the park

pray to the squirrels

bow to the trashcan

gambling that at the bottom

will be a half eaten idea

that i can sell

when the anger in my soul

starts to pound out my heart

i go to that tent

beg to the man

bow to the pipe

give away the music in my bones

for a hope that i will stop the pain

when there is a nowhere and no rainbow

and my shadow trades places with me

i go in my head

get lost in the wave

of no way out symphonies

so i turn in for the day

to welcome in the tepid night

and wait for that clicking to begin

et ecce mulier

omnipotent dawn shawled in gray and pink delicately kisses her on her scarred forehead as it rests against the bus bench advertising the most prestigious real estate agent in town while seven nylon bags each with a logo from a market or a high end store warehouse her last prized belongings one ragged blue Nike sneaker and paper cups filled with grime a broken clock and red wires

militant she is in body in mind she could be anywhere beyond the stars when she smiles the image in her eyes reveal the fires from hell in a most delicate green other times she sings in laughter and waves hello across the sky to the graces never seen by human eyes the locals with finery of wear wonder why she’s there and crown her as a public nuisance not meant to be part of this community there is just too much of a great divide between her prophecy and their brittle decaying reality

look the lawmen arrive she’s more despised and made to carry her belongings down Dolores St. and then the dusk with iron claw he comes and she can’t run away from the hand of fair and righteous rule the goodly people have unanimously decided through tax forms and priority that she must go away the jury wash their hands for the people have spoken and so she takes her fate with a tired brave face not understanding the hate or what she did and where it got her

for three days she’s placed on a hold prodded with instruments of scorn and judgment pleading for her thirst to be mollified she’s forced to take bitter pills as the keepers of the places gamble on her kismet now she’s subdued her gown is sheared down to her contorted waist lacerated feet and hands are tied to the bed of loveless nails for the sake of the most upstanding people’s protection system

Ma Joad’s great grand daughter



green cricket

calls to the soul

primordial waste

spirit shredded woven

in the skin of the leper

i’ve become night hangs loosely poor

lacking luster my lady shoes not

good enough to walk the sidewalks of the

chosen fools who speed holiness away

my gown humble with the dirt of work

hands clasped in riot darkly hid

elbows turned upright gaping

for fluids of defeat

social sunshine glares

upon my lips

without a





sinner smile

at least look to

the west of Hope street

and the pillars under

the court house of the fake lights

at the steps of public health signs

and with divine encrusted begging

bowl nee five dollar coffee paper cup

we ask again tonight and through the day

for gentle rain across my face gone

away with sorrow full with blown

out stars gazing through the soul

of infant time and sin

seeped through secret holes

in skies hazy

with sanguine



photo courtesy of Hélène – Willow Poetry




me no rest

blind darkness thrive

in the garden hidden past the mountain

fold my arms atop my chest and walk off


cold and dry




where have

you gone from

your wild child free

but lost to fences that strike my soul shut

i don’t see the stars any longer light

anyone’s way

before night

one last



Carol was trying to find a few cigarette butts to gut out to make a whole cigarette although she wasn’t a smoker she’d sell them to her neighbors in the tent next door for fifty cents with her thin arms and micro wrists she’d toil for a couple of weeks to raise enough money to go to the flower store on Los Angeles street and buy her parole officer a single rose or sometimes two or three red carnations i had met Carol while i was in high school at that time she was in her thirties she befriended me at People’s Store asking me about my perfume on account that she liked it i was a young punk and i told her that i wasn’t wearing any and walked off Carol stood there looking confused but the guilt gnawed at my chest and i could feel my ears turning hot and red i told my friend to go home and i walked backward a few steps toward Carol as i turned to her i mumbled at  her that i was sorry for blowing her off and offered her my snickers bar she lit up and said thanks kid but i’d rather have some of that beer you have in your back pack i froze and denied having anything in my bag although i knew damned well i had a bottle of Daniels i didn’t like beer we both smiled knowing each other’s truth in bullshit every now and again i’d go looking for her with water bottles canned food and the occasional AJ note if i could spare it we talked about DTLA and Skidrow Carol laughed and i watched her and then she started to tell me about her family out in Virginia Carol had been a victim of many unspeakable things my relationship with Carol lasted for about three years or so her sanity was remarkable but as time went on  it became unbearable to watch her sleep during the day in the summer LA heat her legs were encrusted with months of dirt and when i stared long enough at the splotches they were almost artistic or hieroglyphic in a way i stopped visiting for a few months to reckon with my own demons when i returned it was during spring time and Carol did not recognize me i found her on the corner of 6th and Wall squatted down bare footed picking peas out of a tin can with half a label that read Springfield by her feet was an old pill bottle that read Retrovir a few cigarette butts and a mangled how to live with HIV pamphlet

los soles no miran

en tu fiebre duermes cada noche

reina de la orilla del mar

gritas y pateas a tus soldados

cuando te quieren llevar

a tu palacio en los altos de esta cuidad

tus mandos sin fuerza

tus joyas sin brillo

y tus zapatillas de seda

solo son heridas de la vida

Norma del Reino de Guadalajara

que haces en mi ciudad

perdida de noche

invisible en los días

la luna no brilla

los soles no miran

que tuyos serán los cielos

os sóis não vêem

na sua febre você dorme todas as noites

rainha da praia

você grita e chuta seus soldados

quando eles querem te levar

para o seu palácio nas alturas desta cidade

seus controles sem força

suas jóias maçantes

e seus chinelos de seda

eles são apenas feridas da vida

Norma do Reino de Guadalajara

o que você está fazendo na minha cidade

perdida à noite

invisível nos dias

a lua não brilha

os sóis não parecem

que vocês serão os céus

the suns don’t see

in your fever you sleep every night

queen of the seashore

you scream and kick at your soldiers

when they want to take you to your palace

on the heights of this city

your orders without power

your jewels dulled

and your silk slippers

they are only wounds of life

Norma of the Kingdom of Guadalajara

what are you doing in my city

lost at night

invisible during the days

the moon does not shine

the suns do not see

that you will inherit the heavens

boonie rat haiku

an opened can of

corn and ash filled cups behind

your bible bookcase

i didn’t notice

dusk approaching silently

baby blue surfboard

against your bedroom

doors my hand reaches to them

Darwin winks at me

encircling my legs

your absence claws both our hearts

he feeds on salmon

the path of cigar

ashes etched like hieroglyphs

leads to your studio

Old Glory salutes

me she hangs on solemnly

a noble widow

kneeling in front of

the jar holding your medals

Darwin smiles at me