he was going to teach me how
to pick a lock and hot wire a car
but he went back to prison
I swear, he had a good heart
he was just livin’ the life he knew

adopted in infancy
an idyllic ranch life
going out barefoot and shirtless in the snow
to feed the horses
still, divorce happens
his mother got custody
but blanked out in permissiveness
allowing him whatever
she wanted to play good cop
as divorced parents sometimes do
he would disappear for a week
communing in the canyons; survival skills
drinking water by the rocks
checking jack rabbits for spots
“everything is seasonal” he would tell me
when his mother remarried a drunkard
my friend would don dark clothing and a ski mask
to rob his drunken step dad every payday
to put food on the table
you see, he had a good heart
just livin’ the life he knew

leading a life of drugs
and not just using
he could drink his stuff but also liked Perrier
a life of crime
store front window smash and grabs
in stolen cars
getting involved with big time dealers
still, I swear he had a good heart
just livin’ the life he knew

once asked him why
he never offered me drugs
“Why would I?” he replied
you see, a friend would never do that
he would jump up and say, “No!”
if I pretended to reach for a cigarette
--a regular cigarette
he knew well their addictive nature
knew his lungs were tweeked
and didn’t want me to ruin my voice
I had a beautiful voice
he had a good heart
just livin’ the life he knew

sent to the fire camps up north
in his element in the woods
at peace with himself out in nature
knowledgeable, skillful, personable
upon release they told him
"stay clean till November"
he would have a job waiting for him
he had a good heart
but went back to the life he knew

the last time in prison
he “stuck” someone
it scared him because this time
he didn’t feel anything
didn’t ask him what he meant
we never talked about it again
still, I swear he had a good heart
just livin’ the life he knew

he was in the hospital
last time we talked
he knew he was dying
his sister told me he was scared
it’s been a long time
but I think he was in his twenties
a life of hard times
a death in regret
surely God knew
he had a good heart
he was just livin’ the life he knew

his golden chariot climbs high
pulled by four fiery steeds
his corona ablaze
shining and radiant
bringing light and warmth
to a mundane world
rising in the east
setting in the west
from horizon to horizon
for eternity
his only respite
was resting inside a golden cup
catching the red eye back east
via Oceanus
to start the day again

a solemn, solitary figure
dedicated to daily duty
Zephyr felt pity for him
she whispered a sweet perfume
that struck him like Eros’ arrow
his eyes followed his nose
he spied a maiden so fair
frolicking amidst flora and fauna
a wreath of yarrow crowning her hair
Helios had never taken notice
of mortals before
but found her beguiling
an innocent, unassuming hottie
so unlike the haughty goddesses
he left his chariot
to pursue her visage
the earth plunged into cold darkness
as mighty Atlas moved his shoulders
trying to see what was the matter
the earth quaked
humans shrieked in fear
“The gods have forsaken us!”

Zeus heard the commotion
and looked down from Olympus
he found Helios gazing upon his lady
entranced as if by Sirens’ call
unaware of the darkness
entrenching earth
enraged, Zeus hurled a lightning bolt
temporarily blinding Helios
shaking him from his stupor
Helios blushed with shame
for his dereliction of duty
creating the first red sunset
as he climbed back into his chariot
in a pre-emptive strike
a preventive measure
Zeus erased Helios’ memory
and first froze the girl in a block of ice
but took pity on her
and transformed her into a cloud
to the delight of humans
Helios resumed his duties
oblivious to the eclipse of his memory
but somehow feeling strangely at loss

to this day
every now and then
on the rarest of occasions
he would glimpse a peculiar icy cloud
dancing before him
uncertain as to why he would notice
one cloud from so many
he would just smile brightly
and carry on

life’s slippery slopeyness
keeping us on edge
moving forward
avoiding Sisyphus’ fate
preparation is paramount
educating ourselves
for proper execution
of meaningful moments
discovery and discernment
stoking passion’s fire
fear of failure and
mediocrity’s nothingness
quieting doubting demon epaulettes
turning our mind’s soil
to aerate our roots
fomenting growth
with no need to impress
others or self
or even think in those terms
exploiting one’s own personal
weaknesses and strengths with
grace sanding smooth
rough passages
today’s deferment is
tomorrow’s regret
posture your head high
with joyous eyebrows
feeling alive
appreciating the privilege
of the fruit of your passion

there are days when
the sun seems out of place
setting in the north
you don't know
what you need or want
and don't go looking for it

still, fate happens
an unexpected encounter
a bar, a club
a restaurant or church
the market parking lot
the office elevator
a coffeehouse

a meeting of eyes
a glint of sunshine
or lighting
a sweet perfume
an accidental touch
an unsolicited opinion

a want for company
and social connection
a need for intimacy
and softness
a gushing of blood
running on instincts

small talk conversations
a tentative trust
in this age of
STD's and AIDS

the door is closed
lights off (or on)
no clothing not optional
protection a must

the warmth of skin
the heat of passions
the sweat of effort
the grunts of climaxes
uttered or unuttered
smiling, thankful eyes
calming a beating heart
with deep breaths
caresses and stillness

no commitment or strings
a confluence of souls
a fork in the river
a parting of ways
call it maturity
call it immoral
or sinful
call it one and done
written in the vaults
of heaven

(tales of my mamasita)

after breakfast
father would tend his tuba
father and mother
would then forage the farm for
cassava, sweet potatoes, green bananas
tarot roots and fruits
sometimes harvesting enough
for two days
while mother prepared lunch
father would fish for viand with
his fishing net
going to the far side
of our part of the island
or staying not far from the house
sometimes big brother and little brother
would go with him
to carry large baskets for catch
father was an artist with
his fishing net
circular and hand knotted
lead pieces sewn to the rim
his fishing net
was carried folded over his shoulder
the tip held in front of him
the heavy weighted part hanging behind
eyes shaded with hands
he searched for schools near the shore
in the clear turquoise
putting it down on powdery dry sand
his fishing net
was supported on his forearm
grabbing another part with his free hand
he would turn and fling
his fishing net
over the blueness
seemingly effortlessly
arms stretched skyward
his fishing net
would expand in mid-air
arcing like a geodesic dome
hovering like a frisbee
floating down to the water
in slow motion
finally sinking into sea
father would wade waist deep
stir the fish with his hand
then haul
his fishing net
full of  mullets and other small fish
we would feast for lunch and dinner
with a plentiful catch both
father and mother
would scale and clean
sun dried, smoked or salted
preserved for tomorrows
everything was cleaned up
and put away after lunch
siesta time
afterwards, mother would
do her pottery
fix the tree bark for father’s tuba
or repair
his fishing net
using a tatting device
father and mother
always kept themselves busy
never whiling away the time
till dark

I can’t remember Spring
can’t remember a cold May morning
with overcast skies
in the land of endless summer
roses bloomed in winter
guavas ripened in February
but I haven‘t heard the wrens
chirping and twittering
since we cut down the lemon tree
or the mocking birds
that used to nest there
seasons still turn
in changing climate’s confusion
but where have the blue jays
and butterflies gone?
the banana tree still grows
the native sweet potatoes spread
but it seems there were always flowers
and I miss the scent of night jasmine
the gardens have withered and browned
without her tender care

awakened early this morning
too early
sat on the edge of my bed
and fell back asleep
sitting hunched over
wearing my glasses
as if I were staring at the floor
I entered dream's state
saw my mother’s feet
standing on the floor before me
as I looked down
she was wearing red, silver and blue
shiny, glittery high heeled shoes
a dream within a dream
I was a little boy
fallen asleep sitting on the floor
next to the dining room table
can’t remember the furniture
we had in childhood
but this was someone else’s house
I saw her feet standing before me
tapping her left foot
with those red, silver and blue high heels
tap tap tap tap tap...
I awakened, in life, and laid back down to sleep
one or two years before she passed
she asked me to buy her a pair of shoes
picked from a junk mail catalog
open toe with blue and red leather straps
latticed loosely across the front
and solid natural wood high heels
as kids we called them “samba shoes”
she loved them
but hid them from me for awhile
before admitting they were too small
I guess she got to wear them
after all