Paul Lobo Portugés--reared in Merkel, West Texas, until saved by UCLA, the American Film Institute, and UC Berkeley. Teaches creative writing at UCSB. Taught creative writing at UC Berkeley, USC, SBCC, and the University of Provence. Proud father of two sons. Books include The Visionary Poetics of Allen Ginsberg, Saving Grace, Hands Across the Earth, The Flower Vendor, Paper Song, Aztec Birth, The Body Electric Journal, The Silent Spring of Rachel Carson, and Mao (forthcoming). Poems are scattered in small magazines across America. Received awards from the National Endowment, the Ford Foundation, the American Film Institute, The Rockefeller Foundation, and the Fulbright Commission.
Paul Lobo Portugés--reared in Merkel, West Texas, until saved by UCLA, the American Film Institute, and UC Berkeley. Teaches creative writing at UCSB. Taught creative writing at UC Berkeley, USC, SBCC, and the University of Provence. Proud father of two sons. Books include The Visionary Poetics of Allen Ginsberg, Saving Grace, Hands Across the Earth, The Flower Vendor, Paper Song, Aztec Birth, The Body Electric Journal, The Silent Spring of Rachel Carson, and Mao (forthcoming). Poems are scattered in small magazines across America. Received awards from the National Endowment, the Ford Foundation, the American Film Institute, The Rockefeller Foundation, and the Fulbright Commission.
Paul Lobo Portuges
Feb 27, 2010

             Stones from Heaven              ---pourles enfants de Haiti            "Whatcrime what sin had those young hearts conceived              That lie bleeding torn on a mother’sbreast...             The human race demands a word from God."--Voltaire, " Poem on the Lisbon                                  Earthquake"  (1775) the flesh of the city blends its blood with the dust ofearth's gravethe devil quake broke the bones of their beds with itsterrorist bombthey could see the day light of death in the beaten air feel it in their prayerful souls as the some time glad daysun fell into forever's darkness and all the all reeked with theashes of fearwhere is the loving God of married hallelujahs? all the poor man's houses falling falling "amid thedeepening gloom"into a tomb for sons of promise and green daughterstheir pleasure and pain drowned in a ghost of tears lost like raindrops on the grey face of the bottomless oceanvanished like the passing shadows of stories in theimagination of  cloudswhy oh darkened God of stones God of the Word God of Heaven? in the once bright light of a schoolyard's promise silencenow bleedswhere young eyes yesterday shouted from their books a beliefin tomorrows now the living dead carry their bodies with loving worms on the gallows of their bent backs wander the veins of thebeaten streets chanting horror's verbs black angels mourning the flesh of222,217 in mass graveswhere is the open hands of God the prodigal Father? they lie down forever in the weather of their sorrow withthe innocent deadweep for the seed of their breathless children in the bloodlit city of gospel sorrow no glad to be home families no wined friends with hope'sholiday songs no loving child's prayers or whispered shut eye no sweetgood nights no these good soldiers of Jesus' hosannas are the inspiredblind no moreto the womb of endless night no to the forsaken God of theirbrambled loins  

Paul Lobo Portuges
Jan 12, 2010

lovers

dreamt you said forever yours your lips opened and I was here now

perfectly still she listens to falling cherry blossom music the mournful sky and I envious a witness to evening in her hair

midnight thighs talk wine song dance dawn on railroad earth laughter lovely tears lovely

the stained glass of her mouth my soul gladdened by the rosary of her body

awake pray to the Almighty or roll over and kiss her

roadside she squats pisses I love listening to her the stars

a headring of dead posies on the pillow after all night dancing at first light she picks tea roses

behind kind walls we make love sleep then dream of each other

I wake still inside you rose petals fallen around the porcelain vase by our bed

night hiking with friends thinking about her pussy I forget about the full moon

she arranges roses she speaks with pain about her art God me

sometimes I can't tell if I'm you like last night I you bathing my your feet

I think about it then cut one and another all my roses for her

she eats what I don't I finish her sentences people despise us for laughing her parents don't approve friends whine I neglect them

she inhales the yang in me undresses her soul so I belong to no one else

she pulled my pants down while I ironed said it turned her on

skin to skin and the blossom of your whisper closer come closer my darling we're on our way to where we've never been before

when you hurt my love turns soldier against all biblical stones I'd even marry death if hurled toward you

full of the world I retreat sighing dark between her thighs I know I'm fooling myself
night wraps us in darkness we dream drift long for our cage of light to rise

cock tears poems kids with you feverish with you broke what more do you want

pissed off and hurt I let the phone ring

for weeks my lover bitches about money kids the house getting free last night she fucked my brains out

sad wildflowers lovely braided in the graying hair of my once and only love

Pfeiffer's waterfall the rocky waves at sunset better when we held hands here

once I decided poetry is it she never came back

wake alone with night inside me your perfume still on the pillow how long 'til morning?

I wait all night outside your house the wind blowing through me

dancing in cities quiet in the redwoods I wander worry wish and unwish carry on with a lock of her hair

hope woke when the door creaked open but it was the cat come in  from a night of love making

up all night writing my better gone kids asleep knowing it's only paper song

I was okay until morning doves started cooing at each other

she's long gone even so thought I saw her today

no longer a ring on her hand a song in her sorrow I am gone

years of wind whistle about gravestones one by one carries away her favorite violets

Paul Lobo Portuges
Nov 14, 2009

SON
1
making love to make our son I kiss her eyes as if God were inside her
2
my wife gave birth to my son on the floor of the house I built
3
he keeps me up all night shits on my sleeve feverish cries for his mama until dawn lifts the heads of sunflowers
4
forget poetry going out jazzed our winter born boy needs his diaper changed her ancient tit me house cleaning singing lullabies like a dove
5
wild iris sway as he wades downstream singing
6
one God many stories holding you our son walking the blue earth breathing away the pain with friends
7
amazing the ups and downs my son chasing ducks Sunday eating together my friend’s cancer battle my wife’s selfless moan
8
playing with candlelight my son burnt his finger I warned him
9
shower eat help my son memorize the constellations pay bills watch my wife sleep
10
worried about rats eating wallboard in the dead of night I get up cover my son
11
my son refuses to wear a raincoat in the summer rain
12
in his 2nd grade family drawing: my son gladday ready his mom hugging him me head in the clouds our cat smiling
13
when rains make bitter grass green with laughter my son springs from the winter of his room with his shedding dog and new baseball yelling to his buddies “Wait up!”
14
late afternoon October sycamore shadows blowing elm my son his dog me
15
after days of acid rain the lost sun comes promising heaven sent birds and boys' voices
16
dragged my son up the mountain to watch the meteor shower sons and fathers everywhere I hope
17
my best friend’s grave she loved singing my son asleep now she’s waving grass wildflowers
18
in a vacant lot my freckled face boy floats at the happy end of his 99¢ kite


19
the science of mystical seeds restores your left brain faith in everyday miracles like noisy boys climbing the music of old trees
20
if we could come back her a book of flowers our son blades of grass me the invisible wind
21
6 to 6 deep plowing then wall-to-wall screaming kids a leaky roof the old tractor my darling one naked notebooks full of dreams
22
sling shot boys kick red and gold leaves swirling down the street of locked doors at the tired end of Indian summer
23
my sons reaches for falling snow trampling veined leaves with footloose laughter fearless of winter's night the certain bones
24
true I care more than my son when he plays baseball
25
the orange tree my son planted today will fruit after we’re long gone
26
the bus driver brags about her son’s first home run wishes she could have been there
27
putting flowers on mother’s grave my son holds my hand
28
when night rises I yearn when my son comes home I relax when you sing I surrender
29
WTC on t.v. my son’s face a cloud of tears
30
his father beat him black and blue her husband her their sons their sons
31
the eyes told me that I’d play catch with his sons long after he thought breathed
32
I argued with my son explained the rules he still did what he wanted
33
my boy swaggers down Main St. sure he'll live forever
34
in the back seat good boys brag about good girls what they wanna do with them
35
sleepless until my son comes home late then finally I turn over
and rest
36
the light in my son’s words the silent stones of his tears
37
quiet room unmade bed boys playing in the rain stupid poems awful silence

38
all the dawns evening storms lovely breasts good talk tickled son blow plumeria drift
39
when the stone of night rises I a thief of songs yearn for the music of a woman's light
40
I don't get it gone son lost lover sick friends joyless graying unkissed pissing blood
41
half her half me our son didn't know where to go when she moved out
42
when I'm memory my son might think of me when he's gone I'm only a poem or two
43
bombs hunger lacklove prodigal son abandoned fields come down God get back to work

 
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