Egg cell boy was
nurtured in a
test tube home.

What he was rested
on shelf after shelf,
a museum to himself.

Hawk eye dreams
stayed stale in a thick rimmed
case of glass and class,

though he never
saw what was in
front of him:

a blind love that
would not materialise
into anything but,
time wasted under sheet and cover,
and some lies to warm that
comic book heart of yours.

One day, I asked a chef
how he made his food taste
so delicious

He said to me
"It's simple.  I carefully
mix spices with meats,
fruits, and vegetables,
then I combine them
in a particular order,
during which I apply
heat at certain times
and temperatures."

I was awestruck.

Then I asked a painter
how she created such
beautfiful images

She said to me
"It's simple.  I mix certain
colors together, then I place
those colors on specific spots
on the canvas in a particular
order using a various number
of stroke techniques."

I was amazed

Finally, I asked a writer
how he wrote such beautiful
and inspiring lines

He paused and looked far off
into the distance, contemplating
what wise advice to impart to me



Then he took a hit off his ****

"I dunno, I guess I just
write, like, how I feel
and stuff..."

"Totally", I replied, as I bit into a ham sandwich

Northern light eyes
born in a northern town-
south of the river, dense
in flood creeping higher,
hourly by the night.
Another thousand horses charge down
canyon stream, to much applause
and to many a scream.

drowning in all their tears
something that smells so sweet
sweet river of pain
must be evil
do not be fooled
the waters are tainted
not for sale
serene Nile is a torrential tsunami
full of poison
stay away
murky lake has been claimed
step away
step away

I am writing these poems
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting
Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lion's cage
I'm afraid I got too near.
And I'm writing these lines
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.

romeo is bleeding but not so as you'd notice
he's over on 18hh street as usual
lookin' so hard
against the hood of his car
and puttin' out a cigarette in his hand
and for all the pachucos at the pumps
at romeros paint and body
they all seein' how far they can spit
well it was just another night
but how they're huddled in the brake lights
of a 58 belair
and listenin' to how romeo killed a sherrif his knife

and they all jump when they hear the sirens
but romeo just laughs
and says all the racket in the world
ain't never gonna save that coppers ***
he'll never see another summertime
for gunnin' down my brother
and leavin' him like a dog beneath a car without his knife

and romeo says hey man gimme a cigarette
and they all reach for their pack
and frankie lights it for him
and pats him on the back
and throws bottle at a milk truck
and as it breaks he grabs his nuts
and they all know they could be just like romeo
if they only had the guts

but romeo is bleeding
but nobody can tell
and he sings along with the radio with a bullet in his chest
and he combs back his fenders and they all agree its clear
that every thing is cool now that romeos here
but romeo is bleeding and he winces now and then
and he leans against the car doors
and feels the blood in his shoes
and someones crying in the phone booth at the 5 points by the store
romeo starts his engine and wipes the blood off the door
and he brodys through the signal
with the radio full blast
leavin' the boys there hikin' up there chinos
and they all try to stand like romeo
beneath the moon cut like a sickle
and they're talkin' now in spanish about there hero

but romeo is bleeding
as he gives the man his ticket
and he climbs to the balcony at the movies
and he'll die without a wimper
like every heros dream
just like an angel with a bullet
and cagney on the screen