Sunlight,
sweet beautiful sunlight,
glistening off
the voracious seas,
whose continuous waves
lick,
lick,
lick the shoreline
begging for more,
always
begging for more.

Saguaros stood
like spiny-sentinels
as I sped along the Camino,
alone,
top down.
Warm winds &
tequila-breath
burned my shot-eyes
when I first spotted
the thumbing Lupita,
way south of Ensenada
on good 'ole 1.
Her graceful
toothy-smile
under her full lips
seemed gracious
as I pulled up
alongside her,
kicked the door open.

She hopped in
& we catapulted
with her hair streaming &
brown-skin shining
in the falling sun.
We hit high speeds
smiling
as we continued
south, driving
into the coming night.

Twinkling-stars
& static-filled
La Bamba-tunes
kept us company.
We discussed
sacred-mysteries
in broken languages,
later, counted
each others toes,
rubbed noses
in my bedroll.

In the morning,
she was gone
left me a note
& the ruffled rose
she had pinned
in her raven-black hair.

As I drove off
in a dreamy-state,
somewhat disappointed,
a spiraling one,
a lone black bird
trailed behind me,
I'm sure it was her.

Soon, she disappeared
from my rear view memory,
but never out of my mind.

Honestly sweetness,
it wouldn't matter
if you were a serial killer.
You can chop me up,
add me to your chili
any time.
I just want
to feel your fingers
handling me,
your smooth-blade
cutting me
into tiny pieces,
tasty morsels
made easier
for you to digest
with your hot spices.

When your breath
is taken away
from the magic
of her ****-vibe,
it's hard to get it back.
It's like going under her flood
& struggling for the surface,
without actually wanting
to get there.
Your breath quickens
& you feel
her in your throat
& you want to be
inside her soul
& you're drowning
in her pleasure.

She was relentless,
like Pocahontas,
possessed the spirit
of experimentation,
pushed her limits
to the very brink.
O yes, I think some
labeled her
Miss Eveready,
she could go on forever.
And when she was through,
which was hardly ever,
she left reasons
on my back,
why they called her
Catwoman.
But to me,
always to me,
she was just plain old Angel.
The most beautiful one
in the cosmos.

Eagleman taught me things about his people.
He showed me the pipe,
he talked about the way,
the good red road,
and the four directions.
I was sitting in a sweat
when I learned
about Mother Earth.
It was fascinating,
felt so real and magical
at the same time.
I learned
about animal spirits,
the sundance,
burning sage,
and why his people
danced like ghosts.
But he didn't teach me everything.
He said some things
will always be a mystery.
He said the Great Spirit
wanted it that way.
He told me if one
listened hard enough
to the fierce winds
hugging the plains,
you can hear the pain
of his kindred,
millions of souls
crying in harmony
to the beat of the drum.

He sat in the strangest places,
always at the back
of the mahogany slide,
floated in the nicotine-cloud,
wore permanent shades
to hide his killer disease.

One look from him
could rip testicles off,
he foamed at the mouth,
sinned constantly
& sported scars
like racetracks
on his fractured arms.

Gold doubloons filled
the holes
in his rotten
teeth,
he seethed.

Only the fools
made him smile,
& they saw their end
come sooner
than they wanted,
'cause he loved
a great death.

Every likker batch was his last,
including the carbon monoxide.

She left her mark on me
& I've never been able
to shake
her fragrance.

She left a trail,
a meteor tail
streamed
behind her
everywhere she went,
her skirt hiked up.
An aura of flowers
floated around her
pretty face,
so fresh,
blossoming.
She left no doubt
of her *** appeal.
It was real,
totally unreal,
dreamy - like.

Your beautiful face glistens,
shines out of the darkness
with my devotion
& I gladly kiss
your eager lips
to stay grounded,
sunk,
deep in love
with you.

Restless sleepless nights
Starving for more oxygen
Who suffers the best

Lying in repose,
you are gorgeous,
a beautiful sight to behold.
I long to place
tender
wet kisses
upon your nice
succulent-*******,
while all the while,
strumming your harp
with my delicate fingers
& curling your toes.

Diesel smog hits you smack dab in face here.
It feels just like Baghdad, not Miami.
Then I see the signs for Monkey Jungle,
I realize I’m a bit safer here
& I’m almost home.

I've left my heart in different places,
it's been slowly chipped away at.
In La Paz,
it was the chicha
& in Mendoza,
a Malbec at Azafran,
nice warm saki in Kyoto,
some anejo in Ensenada
& cheap beer in Seattle.
Now all I have left
is enough for shots
of fine whiskey...
I'm still ticking Darling,
cheers.

There was time
when I dreamed
of a better life,
when I wanted
to stop the world
& melt with you.

And for a time,
we did.
I would get all caught up
in the moments
we spent
teaching each other
the finer intimate things
we liked to do with each other.

When you hiked your skirt
up like that,
you'd laugh deviously
& I would go berserk
in a good way.

Funny, how you always
knew it would.

You wore those
high heels & that silky lace.
The look you got on your pretty-face
when we reached that finer place
is forever etched in my mind.

There's no way
I could ever forget
what you did to me,
where you sent me
inside you.

I miss you terribly.
I ain't no cry baby, but
the world is spinning again
& I'm not laughing now.

Flipping constantly
Sleep a bit rough and tumble
I can't breathe like this

I looked up
through cypress boughs
to see the sliver, a moon smile
casting eerie shadows upon
leaves dancing, swaying moss
swirling & ricocheting
the hard echoes
of bullfrogs singing
rich swamp melody.

I wish I could
stay here forever,
in this southern flavor,
deep in the bayou,
where gators growl.

I was told that
ghosts don't exist,
but without going into
too much detail,
I insist they do,
hers lay next to me
all night long
& she didn't just say boo,
I kept her thong.
Now I get the feeling,
I'm gonna be haunted
the rest of my life.

We meandered by four-wheel drive
way up into phantom canyon,
got lost in the blm land,
parked forty-five degrees,
amongst the conifers.

We guzzled the golden brew
& in short order,
found ourselves
wearing our birthdays suits,
amongst the conifers.

For sure we had found heaven,
her gripping the roll bar
& me,
hanging on for dear life,
amongst the conifers.

I saw the signs
& knew she was my kind of lady.
There were bright venetian beads
hung around her slender neck,
she wore faded torn Levi's
& a light cotton top,
a bit see-through.

On her mahogany dresser
was a used
elegant bottle
of Aqua di Gioia,
right next
to the Tiffany lamp
depicting large dragonflies.

The black light above her bed
was a bit odd,
but not the Kama Sutra picture
just below it,
it peeked my interest.

Her cozy bricked-kitchen
had the aroma
of nutmeg and brown sugar
with a hint of saffron.
The selection of wines
not too extravagant,
the French Bordeaux
caught my eye.

The Chinese dragon
wrapped
around her ankle
was an inkling
of her mysteriousness,
her speech repertoire
was impressive,
her diction eloquent,
a real genius.

And her eyes blazed
hues I've never seen,
a gaze that melted me
dead in my tracks,
it was breathtaking,
radiant beyond
any word-description.

I will forever be awestruck.

Look at him dance so meticulously across the stage,
see his arms flow in harmony above his stringed-head.
Watch his bouncing-legs move in step with the agenda,
they move his fingers with such care, flys in air
with such delicacy, they can make him smile,
manipulate his eyebrows with subtle grace,
such excitement they paint on his face.
He's such a spunky toy, a prisoner,
a boy looking to cut strings.

I can daydream all night,
fight romantic urges,
be drawn into illusions.

The paradigm-shift
takes away any confusion,
makes this deliberate,
make no mistake.

I can tap my keys in
this seclusion,
feed your
pretty space.

Patience is
after all
a virtue.

O my darling patient,
I want to be your disease,
make you break out in a sweat,
heat your blood to a high fever,
make you flood slick ****** fluids,
itch your pretty skin with desire.

O please my darling patient,
let me inject you
with my serum,
it's a special antidote
meant to make
you feel better,
get wetter than wet.

The piedmont basks in the glow
of yet another morning star rising.

Robins join in with a chorus of warblers,
chipmunks chase tails,
herons sift through the sand,
and the dew veil is lifted.

O My Sweet Lord,
it's great to be alive
in this sacred land.

The gun bled crimson
tracers
under moonless skies,
penetrated the ramparts
& those with tattered knapsacks
remained vigilant
as stalwart sentries
fell in ****** tatters
to the ground.

Maniacally,
they laughed
at such insane acts,
buried their own dead,
full of enemy-lead.

When the tequila stings my throat
things start to happen,
repression flows
forth
like a cat walking on water,
quick & frantic
I tell stories,
tales about things
I keep under lock & key,
living brokenhearted.

Well, **** mysteries,
don't let them stay bottled up,
guzzle gin instead of Mezcal.

Holy cow true believer,
poke yourself with ******
to find out what is righteous,
remember Camelot.

Eye-to-eye hugging
Perfect tilt to succulent lips
Eyes closed tasting her

I spied her in a dream last night.
There was a silence to her full lips.
Moon glow reflected the miracle in her blue eyes,
wide in disbelief, the end I did cry.

Ocean waves crashed at our feet, intertwined,
her arms around me nesting in the small of my back.
I felt sheltered from the icy wind in her soft embrace.

I will never forget her pretty child face
the last night
I was entranced
by the grace of God.

I think about her often,
the streaming tears I did drink,
the last night
I said goodbye.

When you sweep a village
for the first time
it's rather creepy.
Actually, it's pretty ******* scary,
your ******* gets tight
& it feels like your esophagus
is twisted up in your throat.
People seem to go about their business
as if nothing's wrong.
But there isn't anything right about it.
You can tell it by their eyes,
those vacant hollow eyes,
showing a blend of fear & hatred.
Needles burn through
your ACU's,
spelling "*******'s"
all over your sweaty skin.
Jesus, we carried enough firepower
to level the place
three times over,
**** every living thing,
including the pets & livestock.
We had helicopters and spooky
and artillery at our fingertips, too.
I tried to imagine the same ****
happening in my own city back home.
& it's definitely not
a comforting thought
to think about soldiers
disrupting your lifestyle.
I think I'd be ****** if a cobra
strafed my neighbor's house
or a 1-oh-5 leveled my local 7-11.
Deep thoughts like that
made me
miss my humble abode
even more.
But Christ,
this was war
& war is hell
& we were ****** for it.

Obscure
the messages,
their context
out of synch,
don't you just love
cyber space?

I want to see an actual face.........her your voice.

Crazy bolts played
outside my windows
being pelted
by the downpour
& here I soak,
in a nice warm bath
******* my I-pad,
still dreaming of you.
And I felt you move,
making bubbles
deep inside me.

On all fours,
she became frenzied,
almost primal-like,
begged me
for more of my art
& I obliged,
left her some
of my best handiwork,
all over one
of her greatest
assets.

Teapot whistles steam
Anticipation of the green
Relaxation time

She's complicated,
so serious but nice,
she loves them epics
& long ballads
& me,
I'm not nearly
as complex,
somewhat delirious,
maybe a bit
more lighthearted.
I like a funny limerick,
even a haiku will suffice.

Who made you
the valedictorian of pain,
is mine any less?

Mumbling true-confessions
in the darkness,
pathways to
my broken heart,
with yours lying
in fields of
similar circumstances.

And yet,
we seek romance,
instant success,
gratification to feel,
to feel anything,
anything to be real,
real again,
knowing the depths
of despair.

It was a ritual scarfing
spiced-eggs at the subbase,
then heading up
to the mountaintop
to check on
the cumulous-situation.

From the banana house,
one can see for eternity
the tips of Tortola & beyond
& grow fond of such splendor.

The beauty of such moments
can sink deep & stir hearts.
Even the stoutest of pirates
can cry behind the patch,
get snatched by this passion,
reveal his hidden treasure.

My blood-eyes always
seemed mesmerized,
pleasured
by the ***-filled hours
spent down on Back Street
before each maiden voyage.

The trips to Drake's Seat
to confer with the
dreadlocked-donkey man
were always my final stop.
For he had select bumblegum-*****,
homegrown at market prices,
to change perspective
& buccaneers ya know,
certainly need that fix.

Those warm Trade Winds
whipped through
the Inward Passage
while lobsters boiled
on the shore,
and there, raised up
high on the edge,
my stiletto kniving sapphires,
I understood
the true meaning of freedom,
riding supersonic
under golden suns,
in a world
so alone & starving.

I knew there was something about her
the first time I saw her.
There she was,
standing at the keg
pouring beers
for a long line of guys.
Her ample chest
was falling out of her blouse,
she had the deepest cleavage,
was passing out kisses
to all the boys.
And as I got closer,
I could hear
she was slurring her words
& taking verbal ****
from the ******* around me.
They were laughing
worse than sick clowns,
calling her all sorts of
disrespectful names.
And sadly,
I stood there thinking
"Hey dudes, none of this is her fault."
She was telling them
her daddy said she was a great kisser...
and asking them,
"Would you like to find out?"

Swirling words & a broken heart,
I write of high adventure,
spit my lowest lows,
seek comfort in
a world
full of similar souls,
penning poets.

And I remain
forever grateful
for their understanding
of their own dilemmas,
pain & triumphs.

We met inter-dimensionally,
traded cosmic runes
on our fingertips.
I tasted your liquid dreams,
you stroked me delicately.

In deep space realms,
we seeded
our fractal hearts,
jump-started
the flat lines.

On sunshine,
we believed
in the lost arts,
kindness reemerged,
immersed ourselves
in fiery sensual desires.

Those fires are
never quenched
inside the mind,
we're splintered,
you & I.

The split second it bit my mouth,
I knew I was swallowing quality.
Sixty years of the finest blue agave
they could find.
I had some more
& more
& a bit more
& hallucinated
the rest of the evening,
playing locomotive
& emcee,
as if I were commissioned
by the gods above
to spread drunken love.
My head still hurts
thinking about
that worm.

Witches and llamas
dark cobble ****** streets winding
blank vacant eyes stare

Java is percolating
in the Bunn,
it's fragrance is
filling the countryside,
and as usual,
I'm on the run.

But this morning,
I feel different.
think I'm going
to slow things down a bit
& try to have a little more fun.

Some more ziplining ought to do it,
but first,
I'm going to guzzle this coffee,
quench this never ending thirst!

You have the prettiest
eyes in the world Darling,
they make me melt,
I get overcome
when you look at me.
I love it when you gaze
deeply into my own,
because eye-contact with you
is everything,
especially
when you
swallow
my pride
and feel joy.

Go ahead pilgrim,
go ahead,
make love
to the horse
I rode in on.
You will like the way she bucks,
how her stained saddle rides,
the feel of her flesh
against your taut thighs.

I will never forget
our crossing near El Paso.
Or the time
she reared up
in Amarillo.
Tucson sure fascinated
them bandits
chasing us
for gold.

We rode like demons
constantly
through the desert,
tracing
the tail of the moon
on petroglyphs.

And she knows,
she knows deep inside
her wholesome *****,
she will never forget,
she will never forget
her lonesome rider.

This wearied lonesome rider
has finally,
has finally come home.

We made a saint out of Nicolas
when we lost him.
We lost him
somewhere down Baja-way.
He was spinning his yarns there,
making magic in the desert,
a peyote fox,
then vanished
into thin air.
The last time we saw him
he was dancing circular
into the pitch,
waving his arms madly,
wildly speaking
in an ancient tongue.
Some of us believe
the mother ship came back.
I don't.
I think he turned feral
and continues
to cavort
on
the sabbath eves.

When we slipped on the nvgs,
we even made cyclops look good.
But it gave us the edge,
not a single living thing
went unnoticed in the pitch,
all of us became terminators.
That **** was psychotic,
itchy fingers
& controlled breathing,
we bagged bad guys.
Bur despite what Arnold said,
I didn't go back.

The moon glared above,
exposed solid ice
beneath headlamp-glow.

Winds whipped across the wall,
freezing warm breath-vapor
onto my stinging-face.

Chinks of my axe echoed
against the moraine,
crampons etched
my signature behind.

Slowly I moved up
into the pitch-void,
toward the twinkling stars.

Tethered
to my kindred-spirits,
together we found truth
on the summit-push.

I crossed over the river
wanting to learn
about the Orphic bag of tricks
& realized I had become
part of the underworld.

And fallen under
the spell of Hypnos,
I watched Psyche
get her first kiss
& come alive
by tender-magic.

I met a guy named Adam,
said he was sick of being Jewish,
his parents flaunting all their wealth
& Peter wished he hadn’t been *******
by some of  his brethren Christian fellows,
took him for everything he was worth.

Oh and Aashif told me he was tired
of playing pious Muslim, listening to all
those car bomb exploding on his city streets,
& Neelkamal wondered about Para Brahman,
why some of his kinsmen
treated the women
like cheap ******.

So even if I have
to go underground
like Salmon Rushdie did,
I think I’ll keep my own religion,
thank the sun & the moon
& count my lucky stars
here on sacred-Earth
in blessed hiding.