I woke up very early this morning.
The goddamned roosters crow all night,
from start to finish,
like they've got something to say.
All of the noise in this country
and all year long,
it's too hot
to close even a single window.
And the dogs out there on the street,
they fight worse than we do.
Screaming like animals,
pushing, fucking, raping.
All of the noise in this country
and all year long,
it's too hot
to close even a single window.
Outside the bedroom door,
is a dirty tin roof.
Where a one-eyed bird
brings his friends to dance and yelp.
All of the noise in this country
and all year long,
it's too hot
to close even a single window.
A dirty old pickup truck
with a big PA system
drives the streets
shouting about god or scrap metal.
All of the noise in this country
and all year long,
it's too hot
to close even a single window.
There's a church
just down the road
and it rings it's bell
just about every chance it gets.
All of the noise in this country
and all year long,
it's too hot
to close even a single window.
There are bedbugs in the wall.
I can hear them running around,
pushing concrete
and eating into our skin.
All of the noise in this country
and all year long,
it's too hot,
it's just too damn hot.
26 January 2011 SJDS, Nicaragua
The sun shifts towards the back end
and now we're full.
A blanket on the bedroom window
and October cold outside.
Drained balloons on the nightstand
slipping over the edge,
as if they were Dali's own.
Lazy like a pride of lions
and uneasy like their prey.
With nothing more to need,
I get uneasy, I get restless.
My bloody handprint on the white bed sheets
I love you
The turtle shell lamp fixture above the bed
The rain outside
Is a toilet flushing
A month long menstruation
In Bristol weather
I hear the sun’s still hot in Madrid
My eye lids have a labored fall
as a swollen cheek lies
against cold bed sheets
knees slide upward
into my chest
and my neck bends forward.
I am a fetus
looking for a home
you are my womb
I crawl into
and fall asleep.
Forever warm
and forever home
I fall asleep.
A man as patient
as a mountain feels
no pain
no fear
no sadness
as he sits forever,
waiting to crumble.
"I think I’m drunk now."
He mumbled to himself over the shouting of the television and the drone of Bravo Murillo’s singing tin can traffic.
A white tarp grip of cloud cover had rolled up from the south and each time the number 37 bus rolled in front of this third story apartment, the engine leapt onto the balcony and hummed away.
A white asterisk floated peacefully around the apartment as he struggled to find the perfect balance between cigarettes and those tiny 25 cl bottles of beer.
The wind has been blowing hard
down through the valley
and into the town.
It sweeps across the sand
and into the bay.
Last night there was a parade
in honor of the Virgin Mary.
Fireworks were being lit
on every corner throughout the town,
each one creating a huge boom
followed by a puff of smoke
slowly dissipating
above the town.
A perfect little incubator
between two layers of skin.
Warm, moist and full of substance.
And the stork
with a load in its abdomen,
it is an injection.
This baby is a bullet.
I hear it’s poor luck
to shoot an animal
only to have it
get away
without ever finding the body
I’d shot where I could
skill trailed impatience
and left blood
where once
we have all stood
The skin doesn’t pop.
It separates and splits like a cheap synthetic fiber
wrapped tight around buffalo limbs.
The fibers run thin to expose the pink below,
the yellow orbs and the clear liquid it swims in.
Somehow there’s porcelain beneath and it sits bored and full,
untouched by everything.
touching anything, we’ve become the opposite of hollow,
and that seems to be the worst we could have possibly done.
the colors together are disgusting,
i would have wished for just one,
but it seems as if the intricate parts remain
the make up and the let down.
