early on laying on the warm gray beach with tiny fleas hopping from foam bubble to foam bubble my cheek is tanned by the white ash sun then i see him long black hair chains everywhere eating rice balls and drinking Heineken my thoughts wonder off to speed metal a sea gull zips down to take a piece of Twinkie from my hand the shore it lays tranquil divider of land primordial real estate agent the music in the waves loud clanking slow motion at high speed the Buddha with sun glasses spread out on Venice beach uneasy vibes orient depress let’s chant for new year but awareness comes from remote controls he’s done with rice balls Lama of my dreams Leonard Cohen can you hear me look to the sea my third eye boils my peace upside down hearing the call of awareness while being chained to madness and the singing elephants trample by
Venice Beach
purple petals
when i was a teen girl
i had a teen boy lover
he was broken like James Dean
and like Brando a real bad ass mutherfucker
he kissed with a platinum tongue
as we walked along the Venice sand
he’d get into fights
all bloody and bruised
but we still caught the moonlight
sucking on the booze
we’d fuck until we couldn’t walk
not because of sex or anything
but because of all the glue we huffed
those were wild times
in the eyes of other people
to a punk skater kid
of broken inner spirit
the life style was his fort
me i was just a wanna be
looking for a Trojan Horse
to leave this solar system far behind
by sixteen i’d been dead so many times
and had gotten taken advantage of by force
all because of it
Blaine with the dirty blonde mohawk
my only refuge that boy was
we swore our love
with Sharpie marker anarchy tattoos
and shared pizza crusts
from the dumpsters down on Zephyr
at night we’d find some Gypsy camp
and howl unto the face of angels
howling at the moon just seemed so trite
but when we’d look in each other’s eyes
there were no stars in them
like with the Montagues’ and Capulets’
just an existential escape past our sullied souls
knowing that we had no plan
just living for the day
no flowers in my hair
no money for the Goddamned fare
from desperation blvd. to hole ave.
just me and Blaine alone together
simultaneous fear and madness punching in the air
we lived like Cohen and the Beats
the Velvets and Andy and Billy Name
we talked about fascism and Ollie and the gang
La Revolucion y El Che
we talked about other times
his aunt Myrtle’s minced meat pie
Constantinople and even Hemingway
he read about the Bolsheviks
while i adored Bukowski
he slept in the LA Central Library
on my bony dirty lap
one of the most beautiful
and sacred memories of my life
was my chipped fingernail polish
fingers picking out two tiny
purple flower petals
from his gentle baby hair crown
spread the WLS
Venice beach man
i love the way you look at me
almond blue eyes laden with innocent sin
i love the way you steal a kiss from me
and sometimes hold me down
by my cat-like wrists
and tell me how you’ll take me
i love the texture of your ear
on my tongue rugged and sun burnt
crisped by the sea salt and the sand
i love to hear the song
of your primitive throat when you cum
i love how you scold me when i’ve had
one too many of the L36s
and i respect you
as a man who tells it how it is
with compassion while you grieve
for the slow motion death of my free spirit
spread the WLS
urbanness
my forest concrete
slabs winding wires swing high
moon down we whisper
spread the WLS
truth or chance
take
my heart
tumble it
beating for you
gamble take the risk don’t make me wait long
Russian roulettes corner me black on red
kiss me where it
hurts me more
then go
truth
just
lip deep
i love you
not today dare
to be a fool you might win the game prize
i’m willing to pawn my life for a mere
cold twist of fate
we might find
that we
bleed
spread the WLS
nail
the wind is beautiful soft blue
tonight the moon is quiet just a giggle in a hush
i wait and i call in my thoughts they are impetuous children
while my soul walks on sunset’s shores alone
the sewers carry my logic atop the roads i see the cliffs
down to the ocean gravity tolls a bell
where i wait in the dark for Venus to glow
where i feel your salty cold hands in a fast fading memory
in my imagination cherry tree in symphony
deep down in the last hope hands no longer clasped
of my heart i know not where or what to say
the trance broken by an old girl
starry are her purple eyes
she asks for a smoke
smiling i shrug my shoulders
she comforts me for not having the vice
little does she know
the habit of you in my soul
inhibits my mind
forever
spread the WLS
cigana
for much of my youth i went from one corner of Hollywood to another the moon a constant companion except when she had to escort the beautiful ones in being a juvenile vagabond laid a certain freedom but too much of it lead to complicated cages at 17 with about two packs of everything bad on a daily i flourished in education book and otherwise yet i couldn’t remember much of my childhood it might have been a good thing nevertheless i loved my freedom to drink or stare at antiquities at the museum for hours and hours or maybe sleep in the library and eat onion rings at Astro’s the beach was nice at 1 p.m. on Tuesdays i really loved the hand of the wind on my shoulder and the seagulls chasing me as i threw crumbs of French baguette at them oh how i smiled and laughed
spread the WLS
fortune teller
the sticks under my bare feet are wet
with dew from the shore below i’ve
walked and have spoken silence
to my mind and cannot
reconcile or come
to an accord
sing to me
gently
soul
spread the WLS
circle
the round drop
rolls down a breeze of air slips by
the world ends and begins again
on the edge of the sun
spread the WLS
the tarot cards
they say things will be good
the suns and the deaths
keep showing up
and my breath it cuts short
they say to hang on but
to let go of my addiction
to the one i ask for
the pressure of faith is insurmountable
in the middle of the night
when the fear is greater
i draw a fool
going nowhere in a circle
