Cabeza de Vaca
In Galveston

Journeys on
To Mexico City

1537
Leaves for Spain

Unusual
May his tale remain

                         Unexplained

the white clouds cried
it rained sideways
silver-dollar sized
raindrops
in
the
ghost town
of Galveston
while
you hear
the rain
in Galveston

I'm big
I suppose that's why my women always seem
small
but this 6 foot goddess
who deals in real estate
and art
and flies from Texas
to see me
and I fly to Texas
to see her--
well, there's plenty of her to
grab hold of
and I grab hold of it
of her,
I yank her head back by the hair,
I'm real macho,
I **** on her upper lip
her ****
her soul
I mount her and tell her,
"I'm going to shoot white hot
juice into you. I didn't fly all the way to
Galveston to play
chess."

later we lay locked like human vines
my left arm under her pillow
my right arm over her side
I grip both of her hands,
and my chest
belly
*****
****
tangle into her
and through us
in the dark
pass rays
back and forth
back and forth
until I fall away
and we sleep.

she's wild
but kind
my 6 foot goddess
makes me laugh
the laughter of the mutilated
who still need
love,
and her blessed eyes
run deep into her head
like mountain springs
far in
and
cool and good.

she has saved me
from everything that is
not here.

lord
it
rained
for
forty days
and
forty nights
the
hunted rain
of
Galveston
rained down
upon
us
like
a
bucket of nails
and
pitchforks
all
through
the
wicked eyes of night

I see you in the dust particles
waltzing in late afternoon sunbeams
I see you in endless train tracks
curving out of sight and into
uncharted territory inside your chest.
I'm sorry I didn't know how to loosen
my dead bolt grip, you were your own world
and I selfishly believed
I could grasp your full potential in my tiny fingers.
I assumed you were linear,
two dimensional;
one chapter rather than
an entire library of life.
I know you wanted me to speak up,
unhinge my jaw and let
the unwritten poems of my mind
seep into your ears.
I didn't think telephone wires stretched
across so many miles just for dead air.
I didn't think you were
listening so hard with your eyes.
I've been shaking my head,
trying to find a solution
rattling around in some stray cranial nerves.
Maybe that's why they call it shock
when it's not electricity at all.
We went from caves and brutality
to covered patios and toxic taser tongues
ready to etch high voltage vocabulary
into my bones until that's all I have left.
You wanted a better fight
but you shorted my circuit.
I let go all at once and I couldn't turn away
when you stumbled and crashed into a new reality.
I still have trouble laughing
around the lump in my throat
when people joke about trees falling in forests
because the way you said my name
still has me by the throat and some days
I think your grip is what kept my feet on solid ground

Everyone has that one spot that you can just go to and be in complete harmony.  Mine has always been the same. Its in the surf of the gulf of México, sun just peaking over the horizon and the only sound the unusual softness of the rhythmic waves against the Galveston beach. Fishing poles in my hand and a hat on my head I wade into the gulf out to the second sand bar jumping each wave and feeling the sand with my bare feet. It is here in the first few casts that I find utter peace in my soul.  The anticipation of a bite and the beauty of the sunrise over thewaves rejuvenate my total being. The ****** of pleasure I experience with each cast is so climatic that the thought of it alone is enough to bring pleasure.  The rhythmic movement of the waves massages the elixir of passion for me to extreme ends

gently
our
hearts grabbed
the
armadillo red sunset
witness
across
the
screensaver skyline
while
leaving Galveston

What am I and where have I been?
Time is looping once again
and folding back in on itself
it seems to be, or rather to me,
that the spiral theory is proving true again.

I don't know if I'm fully innocent,
or satan-sent or sinner's breath
or whatever the **** I am,
I guess I ain't frankly know ****.

Yet I'm dissecting sections of myself,
metaphorically in this particular case,
and trying to get to the bottom of this...
this medical-spiritual experience that has been
ripping itself forth through my reality
like a ******* hurricane through Galveston.

Perhaps with enough illumination
certain features of the creature called me
will come to light and brighten up my days.

Who's to say?
I'm certainly not.

Ask me what I want to do, go fish
if I had a genie, it’s what I would wish
in the lake, river, creek or pond
eagerly cast next to a fern frond

Wiggle my bait and work it some more
hoping a fish cannot ignore
flipping up under docks
or the edges of piles of rocks

Working the tree stumps
waiting on a big thump
on my lure, adrenaline pumps
waiting for the end of my rod to jump

Bass, on Carolina, Alabama, or Texas rigs
crappie and pan fish I’ll catch on a jig
white bass and hybrids, on slabs and spoons
I have even caught them casting at  loons

Sam Rayburn, Cedar Creek or Lake Fork
I’m getting excited just like a dork
Tawakoni, Amistad, or Nacogdoches
if I ran out of bait, man I would use roaches

Livingston, Stryker, or the Trinidad  Lake
catching some fish, fry them up on a plate
bait cast, and spin cast, pushbuttons oh wow
I also can fly-fish, I taught myself how

Gar, carp and buffalo, anything that bites
looking for something to make my line tight
Matagorda, or Galveston, or Port A
I have no problems fishing  the bay

Intercoastal waterway or out in the surf
no problems cooking surf and turf
Black drum, Red fish or Speckled trout
as long as they’re biting I’ll never pout

Whiting, and Croakers and even Hardheads
catching are fun, getting the slime off you dread
gaff tops are pretty, but just as slimy nasty
I’ve never had any, I hear their pretty tasty

Flounders are flat and so are sting rays
but if that’s what’s biting I’ll fish everyday
jacks, and mackerel and bonnet head sharks
so many fish in the ocean, that’s just a start.

How about invasives, silver carp and snakeheads
cast for the snakehead, jumping carp in a net
I’ve fished lots of bass, native and Florida strain
but there is one thought that sticks in my brain

Is I’d like to go catch some peacock bass
top water action would really kick ***.
catch and release or serve it up in a dish
as you can see I really love to fish

Sur la côte du Texas
Entre Mobile et Galveston il y a
Un grand jardin tout plein de roses
Il contient aussi une villa
Qui est une grande rose

Une femme se promène souvent
Dans le jardin toute seule
Et quand je passe sur la route bordée de tilleuls
Nous nous regardons

Comme cette femme est mennonite
Ses rosiers et ses vêtements n'ont pas de boutons
Il en manque deux à mon veston
La dame et moi suivons presque le même rite.

Rhinestone’s being unique
The added harmony a sheer treat
Cowboy’s and horses racing by
A sunset that has turned a final sundown being a cry
The question being of why?
It’s Glen Campbell, Country Western Singer who died
Rhinestone Cowboy moving along in the western countryside
The beauty and horizon of the hills
The legend in singing in attention in be still
Glen Campbell a man who loved the west
His country western style singing says it best
Rhinestone Cowboy, Gentle On my Mind and Galveston
Those are only just a few, but there were many more
I actually visited Galveston in Texas
Mr. Campbell’s songs in let me tell you a story
My mind smiled through my pain
My heart is country western and that is what will remain
I have seen the sunrise and the sundown
But Heaven called and this is where I am bound
I have travelled from the East to the west
My every song tells of my life in being a testimony of my confess
Yet Heaven heard my endless plea
It caught the attention of Faith in singing pitch being the total key
Heaven invited Glen Campbell to come up
Your Stardom caught Heaven’s eye
But it wasn’t stardom, but the blessing being Glen Campbell’s joy to sing with expectancy to join thee
The Rhinestone Cowboy will be shining in Heaven among others who have arrived there
Heaven is like no other place compare
Glen Campbell jumped on his horse and galloped to the pearly gates
He knew he couldn’t be late
The gates then opened
Glen Campbell entered
You told the world and your fans this is goodbye, but added, “We shall meet again”.

No high school sophomore ever grew up without
A naked lady plastic ballpoint pen -
Those furtive giggles in geometry class
Are not about theorems all risqué

After the FFA trip to the rodeo
Or the band trip to sunny Galveston
A pretty lady with a 1940s do
Loses her swimsuit over and over again

Upend the pen, and she's nekkid in the sun -
Whoever thought writing could be such fun!

Memories like broken glass
                     fill my heart                    my sensible soul
                                    shards of you
                                                                     remain
                  Tattering this perspective
                                  Leaving a broken person
                                                       behind                        these eyes
                  This Kerouac perception
                                       mounted on confusion
               for                                                      feelings left
                                          undisclosed
            Baffling me like a child
                                                         Thunder and rain my
                    only solace
                                                       dark clouds             my psyche
mutually bound
                                      Like hurricane Galveston
   ripping apart               these thoughts                 these transgressions
                                     mortally comforting
          like cigarettes on Sunday
                                                             reaching forth      
               grasping at straws                                   so they say
                                                 they always say
but do they feel                                                  as I've felt?
                            alone                &                 tempered
                                       as glass
the glum periphery                                engulfing
                                        melting me down                     eating away
       into a pool of nihility
                                                   to harden              to break these chains
feels outdated          unscripted nonsense
                        in the background of my memories            souvenirs
      a setpiece             based on untruths

created        
                 into
                               this
                                          sheer              crystalline              matter

They call
                                                    Glass

Happiness is tears of laughter,
video games with your redheaded son,
rescuing a baby ferret to look after,
or telling a ridiculously cheesy pun.

Happiness is a home cooked meal,
your mom randomly giving you a hug,
a Harry Potter sticker on your driving wheel,
or seeing summer's first June bug.

Happiness is your dad being proud of you,
Momma's homemade queso in a crock ***,
an ocean wave so stunningly blue,
or learning how to dance in an empty parking lot,

Happiness is running two miles,
sitting in a pew singing "It is well",
watching the Netflix Ted Bundy trials,
or a collection of Galveston seashells.

Happiness is driving through Spring,
a spontaneous trip to the Houston Zoo,
or twenty percent off a James Avery ring.
But mostly... happiness is me when I'm with you.

Before smoking a cigarette with you,
we walk outside to your porch

we are in an old town,
I thank you for your respect and hospitality

“I was just in trouble”

I say, thinking of how I sat in the Dean’s office the other day.

I think, meta-magically,
“wow, a human”

with hands spread out.
coins in hand.

Infinity is a toy store,

or a hot dog,

a walk with no complaints,

As we stroll leaving behind

the worries of today and yesterday.

As I
come
down,

Violence & crime,

So, I build us a house in San Francisco,
I decide it’s best either in the suburbs or
in a less affluent side of town,

Because it’s dangerous to be a healer and a thief

To be a model who looks in the mirror several times a day,

Or, a world-class athlete who trains alone.

My identity is selected
            by my interaction
with ecstasy, & I apply it
by either incorporating it or resisting
                                                     it.

& please, I just want to be beautiful
& please, I just want to be beautiful
& please, let me have the toy
& to be loved
                       to be held tight
                         & for you to not
                                  let go.

I want the beach in Galveston to stretch more than
27 miles. The sand on West Bay to have diamonds. To pick them up.
For Trinity river to flow into the Gulf of Mexico.

For the winds that come from hurricanes to
create a tremendous party for us, so we can slowly
slide down a slide at a children’s
                     museum.

The part of the Gulf of Mexico that interests me
the most is that it is bordered by the east
coast of Mexico, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi,
Louisiana, and Texas.

& they’re off, as I go to work & play dress up,
because time is a line, probably, we should begin again,
& meditate, & I’m sorry I didn’t support you, your
music deserves a louder clap than mine.

And suddenly,
the saddest thing occurred today
I was wearing khakis shorts
and a Bahama button down
and I was picking up my
kids from the airport. Just
then, I realized, I’m a father.

fold me in
and in again
pages full of sand, palm trees, blue skies

the gulf is strange and alien,
greenish,
and at night the moon howls like the punctured sky
because i am so insane
because i got here so ...fast.

cars fly to and from the sea,
spinning me

my weathervane will eventually build a surrounding ...structure.
what i lack in confidence i make up for in sensitivity
don't you feel both sides working?
don't you wanna feel both sides working?
but for now i'll dream of prototypes
like leonardo's flying machine.

and she,
she is way too casual with adamant muscles
talking, walking, everything coolly
with a strong knot of muscle in the middle

we walk into the moon with beads of hope
just condensation on our hearts
that collects and glows
when we fall asleep

The moon hung like a pendant in the night sky we stare out into the Galveston ocean you take my hand in yours and im eager to share my hopes and dreams the very things that drive me even the experiences that have shaped me into the person I am.
THEN YOU SAY TO ME:
"You have too many thoughts
in your own head maybe you should stop reading so many books."
It was almost as if because these parts of me were too complex for you to understand suddenly that made them invalid...

titanic
ghost white clouds
rolled in
from
the
northwest of
Galveston
just
before
the
cloud burst storm
brought us
the
scent of rain

Fat Confederates in Camouflage Knee-Pants

General Robert E. Lee in in a slogan tee -
One cannot imagine such, nor yet
**** Dowling defending old Galveston
Armed with made-in-China tiki torches

Doctor Martin Luther King adorned in bling -
One cannot imagine such, nor yet
The Little Rock Nine disfigured with tats
Or freedom marchers sporting designer sneaks

So, all you goofs and oafs and slobs and yobs,
Get out of the way; go find yourselves jobs

The sadness will last forever
But what about the love?

San Patricios returns
Green the turtle dove

Mexico nearby
Cabeza de Vaca I'm thinking of

Los Indios
Galveston slips the glove

Where have you been
Darkened with uncertainty
No place to be found
Chanted spiritual songs within one’s encouraging thought
I need to be free
I pray to thee
Thunder raw
Lightening outburst
Slavery was hard and tormented
Beaten and torn
Sunrises being a forbidden rise
Working on those cotton fields
Plantation ordeals for real
Wounds showing the many rebels
Trapped in a prohibited society
No pity
Freedom only a thought
Praying and constant praying
Singing upon singing
The slaves hope surrounded up in Heaven
Numerous cries heard
In 1862, the Emancipation Proclamation was documented, and Freedom became the word’s that Afro-Americans needed to hear
No more worry some of fear
It took place in Galveston, Texas
Years upon years of denial
Not knowing where nor if
Heaven the many outcries
Crisis finally came to an end
Freedom, Freedom, Freedom
From Slavery life into the light of the earthly kingdom
Sacrifice proven
Land’s wisdom
Dwell doers
The raw of thankful emotion
Smooth breezes and calm oceans
Life was and will be worth living
The call for Freedom
Emancipation at its best