I bang my elbow in the shower,
takes a second to realize why
not that I was careless
or enjoy pain, again
but the cascara
cowbell, saxophone,
hands around my shoulders
that are not my own
sunlight squeezing lemons,
flower dress upon the hill
potato enchilada
still
digesting
messing
with my footwork
possibly
maybe
I was careless.
Showers are not the place for salsa.
May 10, 2021
May 10, 2021 at 9:43 AM UTC
I used to get very annoyed with my mask
each day I’d implore, “Is it too much to ask -
that my glasses don’t steam up when I walk in a shop
or to not have to swallow down buckets of snot?”
But lately my viewpoint has started to waiver
as I discover new uses for this multi-lifesaver
like wiping the grit from my spectacle lenses
or warming my beard when I’m out mending fences.
Then there are subtler means of employ
(I’m not talking about some ***** *** toy)
where this sliver of material,
though appearing unmanly,
has proven itself surprisingly handy.
Only last week, on a long evening walk
I crept into a church round the back of Earls Court
and sat down to the tones of an ***** concerto
that whirled within me like Dante’s Inferno.
Out of the blue I began to cry
emotions stuffed deep inside reached for the sky,
streams gushed forth from each quivering eye lid
I’d not wept so fiercely since being a kid
yet though it did not cover the whole of my face
with my mask pulled high I was
at least,
saved some disgrace.
When this is all over (I promise it will)
hold a thought for how
your mask did fulfill
so many functions,
besides helping you survive
and perhaps carry one in your pocket
to keep the memory alive.
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 3:06 AM UTC
You shine as far off mountain range
or breath of southern sea,
you shine like yellow meadow
basks with butterfly and bee
You shine as lonely patient gorge
crawls from heart of Earth,
and rivers ablaze with autumn fire
dream long forgotten birth
You shine as that kiss one
ripe
electric
afternoon
trickles down your spine,
you shine eternal morning
you shine
you shine
you shine.
Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 1:09 AM UTC
My heart does not attach
(to what it cannot have)
my mind does not ask
(what it cannot know)
my body does not shake
(beneath your hips and thighs)
God presses into this room
God presses into this room
through the spaces in the blinds.
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 4:42 PM UTC
When every day is like today
can't find the keys can't find the door
I wouldn't make it anyway.
Don't say you know
don't say you know
don't say you know
cos you don't know.
Can't seem to find the clothes to wear
there's not much left of '83
I can't believe that that was me.
Don't say you know
don't say you know
don't say you know
cos you don't know.
(Repeat last line)
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 4:12 PM UTC
You taste so fine
in the morning
you go down like
coffee and sunshine
or a bird on the fence.
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC
She said
wild pigs roamed the woods
so my heart bumped
and I tried not to show
how afraid the
darkening trees
or her footsteps
made me
as we descended
the hill.
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 4:24 AM UTC
This sweet milk tea
in Georgetown
contains all my joy.
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 6:38 AM UTC