My Cell

I keep this cell in my pocket,

held in place by invis-

-ible airwaves.

Sometimes I take it out,

just to look-

-at myself in the glare.

I forget I’m held here,

I forget I’m held in the mirror,

I forget I’m held as I hold my cellular.

Last Call

There’s a hole in the wall

a tiny bar in a tiny town.

Stone oven, taps, and candle light-

Something for the hunger, the thirst

and the loneliness in the night.

Saw the prettiest little thing

          and tried to converse,

          in our small universe, 

over how loud the spirits did sing

         within.

Stayed out late, drinking in 

the beauty of the night-

         -Taps running dry 

         and the fire is dying out.

She’s got me by the look in her eye

and I don’t wanna say goodbye.

Grandfather Clock

My father says life is like a pendulum-

-I think it is a pendulum of a single swing

     we are babes

          we are men

               we are old

                    and then, the

                         pendulum freezes-

or does it break in its swing,

oh so violent in its final stroke

or - do we swing back (to life?)

                           from old

                       to men

                   to babes

then back again?

     ...to something else?

     do we turn to birds?

soar to a lie in the sky

          or 

sink to a fear in the ground.

     Oh wise Grandfather clock!

that stands so patriarchal

    over the graves and airs of men,

Where does your pendulum place us? 

-Tell me how 
     you keep on swinging on

after your maker has been gone
   for so long.

Backside of Fear

I’m getting my back back,

     My Mama says “There, there.” 

The world screams “Attack! Attack!”

     My brothers say “Here. Here.” 

All I can feel is this Hack’s hack,

     Fighting to breathe; “What does Fear fear?”

Queen of Gasoline

She's dancin'

                     a trail 

                     of gasoline, 

She's smilin'

                     behind the flame

She's playin'

                     with her hair

She's twirlin'

                      the very air

                      burning, dancing

      She's the 

     Queen of Gasoline.

Grotesque Grotto

-Like a lick of the grotesque

“Carry your demons with you like a double; 

a lost rubble of long forgotten trouble” 

Its all that anger, 

destruction come from

your lungs, and the

hurt on the tip

of your tongue.

“Exercise your demons 

and let them dance

upon your tongue”

Its that negative energy 

beaten back within-

beaten black and blue.

With eyes bulging

with outward hatred true.

“Hug the darkened embodiment

to quell the cannibalistic tide”

Its home - hidden in 

a pit of bile,

in a cage of bones,

a welcome mat

of teeth which moans.

“Kiss the carnavelesque creation

and love your demons’ dreams”

Its a path for evil unfurled,

your tongue like

a red carpet

unto the real world.

Black Water

“I am but a vessel 

who treads through 

troubled tides” 

-a warning to the reader.

There-

was paradise on the water black,

before I turned my back.

There-

is a man pouring

a barrel of oil on a boring

bikini clad model this morning.

There-

as she posed in the sand

he touched her with his hand

saying, “Sorry- for destroying the land.”

There- 

is a black oil slick,

a rainbow in the sand, 

a beach once loved, makes me sick,

I hope you understand. 

A Poem to Entertain a Travelling God

A home of brick and wood,

my bungalow 

     sitting on a

          ravine below

where I played as a

child long ago.

I've tended the 

     leaves of grass

and 

     made my fort

“fit to entertain a travelling god”

     on the forest floor

          of my childhood's sod. 

We made a trail 

     to the meadows

and made footholds in the trees. 

We made dinner in the kitchen, 

my dear friend climbed the 50

     foot cedar, I watched him, 

          like a bird in the trees, 

               as free as a child could be.

As I looked at him he must have looked at me 

for we both had a sense of infectious glee. 

     I knew what he could see, 

he could see me in my bungalow, 

50 feet below, 

he could see the town of hills, 

the farmers' fields, 

the ravines and rivers, 

the trails that we walked long ago. 

     

     My friend is now long gone, 

across the ocean, 

he took to the blue 

of the sky and the sea. 

     Maybe he saw something more

 from high in the tree, 

something I couldn't see. 

     A part of me went with him, 

up that tree, into the sky,

over the ocean,

and the waves of the sea.

I wish I climbed with him,

took to the air, 

and the bodies of blue.

     I wish I had 

shared his view, 

and climbed with him.

    My friend, 

Dear Benjamin,

where now are you?

Mechanical Beast

To tame these
Compositional creatures
I require an eye of fire.

Temper taught thoughts
Creating confusion
Is the ire of my desire.

Timed touchless tasks,
Clockwork combustion,
Oh! mechanical choir
that will never tire.

Listening to Sound Talk

They talked in sounds- 

     their words beat

     into each others ears.

I can pick out their lyrics

Yet have no ear to hear the lyre.

     -their brains, little turtle

     shells with strings.

High pitches of excitements

and bass meant for basements.

     “Have you heard this?”

     “Have you heard that?”

Zen of screaming,

     lower case, hammer claw,

          mariachi, bachata, schranz

I watched their tongues dance-

    on and on into the night,

         listening in awe.

Skyfall

All the world is rain, 

All the sounds are

      Showers of cold will-

      Cozy raindrops on roof of-

      The inevitable trickle 
      that will join the rivers of old

             When the rain comes down

When the rain comes down 

     it descends on my face, my hair, my clothes

My skin drinks it all, 
     I am a fish, 
     a frog, 

I am an animal of skyfall

Dairy Diary

Feeding on the white

          substance of another

In turn fed.

Toro Torus!

               Milky way

     Twilight maze

Grand cosmos 

     herdsman and 

     the starry night

Drinking from the udder 

     in the sky.

     Bovine stars*

               Ohh, Jupiter!

On cartons

in cartoons

On posters and billboards

          and electric 

          air waves.

Tomb of husbandry

     hold's

     the labyrinth

     of the minotaur

and

     whispers of the 

     Rape of Europa.

We rarely think
When we drink

     But consume, consume, consume.

the cosmos 

the cow

like the fasting cannibal.

     Holy cow 

     Hindi Devi

We consume our mother

and dance in the Milk,

                           Blood, 

                           Shit, 

                    and Piss.

The Good in the Bad

There are sweet spirits in fermented fruit.

We need our heavy anchor in the tempest,

And pray for sanguine shade in the desert. 

There are lovely lilies in the bog.

We look for telling signals in the fire,

And passion in a lover’s petty jealousy.

Reformed Savage

Hold your forked tongue.

        Don’t flash your razor teeth

            and leave my scalp alone.

Don’t think
to shrink 
my head, 

You may have it wrong.

      We’ve had it wrong all along;

                Scalping was taught 
in English,

      and the blood of war has long

Been on Roman hands.

       One hand on 
       innocent mouths

                and the Other probing their brain.

Poor marionette men 
      Held 

By savages in armchairs. 

Imaginary Prohibition

A novel bootlegger,

A fighter for fiction, 

And a rebellious reader

Whisper in smuggler’s diction.

Illiterate watchmen 

Now prowl the scribblers’ den. 

They want what’s real, not lies,

That the poetic privateer provides.

Their eyes scorch like torches

At Fahrenheit 451. 

They are blind, but forces

Divorces for lovers of the pun. 

They feed each other mythic sources.

They keep alive the classic corpses. 

The Child Inside Will Never Die.

It occurred to us at dusk on the playgrounds of our past.

Standing atop frail wooden castles, 
Challenging the day for one more play,

Challenging the sun for one more hour of fun. 

The child inside will never die.

Child sentries at their posts. The ground is lava 
And we’re afraid to touch our feet to the ground.

We’re climbing like animals in the jungle gym.

We’re haunted by the knowledge that our primal joy 
Will end with the knell of the recess bell. 

We’ll stay till the giants dare to drag us away.

The child inside will never die.

Thorn of the Rose

I made myself

Fall in love with you.

Without ever seeing 

If the feeling was true.

I made some change

With this broken heart buck,

I’ve gone and pressed

Too hard on my luck. 

I see new colors

With these rosy glass eyes.

Making new shades of

Those passions I despise.

She’s the thorn of the rose

In my clenched fist,

Its pain and beauty close

My eyes and I missed. 

Coyote Lines

Coyote;

Serenader

Of the moon.

He baits our plates.

A course, a song- 

The double hook-

Swallowed long ago.

Coyote’s fishing line

Caught on fear inside.

Bodies tremble in the night.

Coyote pulls us close tonight.