Opening 6 am eyes
To squealing leaf blower,
time-squinching
******* tightening siren,
a drone for your eyes to
float inside,
A sudden soundtrack
to text Message suicides,
, bitterbombs ,
from New York
The words pop up wobbly,
glossy, bobbling around
to the beat of their sender’s
notions
Distressed as he wakes to the sting in his eyes
And envisions your eyes
opening after,
succeeding,
Not alarmed yet.
still separate from the void
where his thoughts
haven’t occurred yet.
Projected comics
play out in both minds,
saracastic kids,
bouncing around like
blotter acid making
escstatic pangs of
it all.
While the world drives on
A steaming freight train
heading straight through Kansas
To Alberquerque
To beyond
Until were back again going to sleep
In love with our pillows.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
Ed’s Speak-Easy hides behind its windows
draped and shielded from the sunset west-
-on into morning their unaware eyes
time-glossed in the sun rise east.
I sat in my studio above them,
over nine seasons in solace
never sights, just sounds of
girls dancing in lacy fluffed skirts
trampling glasses and hollow cans
sharp moving heels in heavy shadows
creaking toxins aged and seaped
into hardwood misery
Whiskey shouts and poker faced insults
high-toned energy, rising and fading
explosive bursts of high money
high life, high scheme delight.
I could see their sounds and feel their rhymes,
my blood feeding off their nicotine from
the smoke rise, a cascading surprise
to the carpet fibers rising up the walls
into my webbed lines of breath
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 10:20 AM UTC
One eyed Doug is dead,
Mario told Trey
at the foot of the trail
where they caught each other
sneaking up to the old civil war fort.
they walked up together
where the trees made it
seem later in the day,
catching the stride
through the deep shadows to the top.
They heard the fire
cracking and voices stirring the embers,
stirring all the Coyote and Deer
to the outskirts, away from
Justin and Nick, resting at home,
Sitting with newly lit eyes
Glazed against the giant logs
Lava-tinged
Gargoyle’s roasting
slowly in the fire
Mario lifts the log
where Doug always sat, that somehow
never got burned.
He lifts it high,
like a ghost
they see in the slant
of the train bridge walls.
Shoves it hard
breaking open new fires
breaking apart
the civil war owl
rising up from the ashes
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
I’m driving laps around
Urique’s unpaved streets
with Arnulfo, the world’s fastest
ultra-runner up front
Chugging tesguino disregarding
Young son, Mateas in the back
Handing us the 2 liter Coca-
Cola bottles, full of the mashy
corn brew.
The cholos are drinking
Tecate, mumbling under the palms
stalking the river, watching us
break down at ever lap.
Arnuflo heaves the truck
from behind, alone,
screaming and pushing.
I snap it into second gear
Mateas trembling,
and off we go. Arnulfo hopping in
smoking more cigarettes
passing the tesguino around shouting
Rapido! Poco a poco! Andale!
Rancherra bumps full blast, the
Eternal bumping,
beem, boom, up and down
Beem, boom, beem, boom
Tubas and brass echoing through all the adobe walls
meandering all the way
down the arroyo
to God know’s where.
The cholos challenge Arnulfo
to a race in their harsh stares
under flashy hats and shiny mustaches,
Ed Hardy models with sharp pointed
snake-skinned boots
Ayyeee, Arnulfo says, He won’t race
gainst Oscarine who they say
is the fastest young Chabochi
better than the elders
who used to chase down deer,
gently twisting their necks
after tracking them to
an ending exhaustion.
Arnulfo tells them I can win
as Oscarine snorts more from the bag
they pass around from his pocket
Off we go twenty yards
Around the farthest tree
And I win because of
Arnulfo's ancient
assurance
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
patterned brilliance.
losing touch with a setting sun
trance-like
in the lilac sky.
familiar, inopportune
words fill my wounds
like people flocking towards
dramatic settings.
They make a hum,
A chatter of awaiting smiles
stifled by the sound denied
by their silence
too far deep
a lack of care
Intense realization
that I’m steady
in the sky
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
speak easies and sunsets
the rip roaring tide
of each season
plucked from
a particular
map of heart
a wilted plant
brought to
fruition
through
journies posted
reconciled and branded
out of their
terrain of gloom
with terrain too soon
the hardy way
of blues
‘infidel rider
of the box car
whiskey sunrise
alarm clock for BBC
snowy icy white lot
sky feasting
on schizoids
orchestrating
the busses
the pistols
silenced
and silent
the train
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
I love the brilliant frenzied
stillness
Earth rotating, an opaque of
beaded matters
The buckling transfixiated
openings of bleeding
ground.
Blue green brown blood
teeming with movement
disconnecting features
rapt in water
and other lives
repeating, inserting
maelstroms of
thought.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
wait for it and it doesn't come
caught off guard
incredulous singing
squawking pigeons
six in the morning
kings of the ready
dead finch
cats eat feathers
in the house of cards
down stairs ready
house of carnivores
company functions
canvass paints numbers
paints horses riding
steady in mind--
through
windy
ozark meadows
six in the morning
while the finch
sleeps in
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
george washington had false ivory
teeth, and false dreams
of ivory fields
with the ghostly
asphodel flowers
lingering in the
gloom eternal
where not even
the poets could afloat
from their river of Lethe
and there our nation lays
its fate passing
SLEEP and DEATH
BROTHERS at the gates
of fake dreams where not even
Faunus can talk them out of it
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
conflicting emotions jim
beaming around this town
he’s got these reasons i can’t
confound. you can smile or you can
laugh with him. cause in the end
we’re steeped unsounded
in his grease
i can sing my wisdom
or my caddy songs
but i always i result
to ancient calls
i have patterns
and i have my doubts
but one things certain
is unending drought
a gift of a cup of
a life to fill
i got this sound
and spreading
out no guilt
and it goes
phone drops in the *** roast
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC