Self Portrait 6

July 13, 2009  :: 0 comments

Corn tortillas wrapped in foil
So good like they were made
by Tia Liz
Sweating under her box fan
while she sucked on a lemon
And drank peppermint schnapps
Talking shit about that educated
Puta that took her man

Rushing for my bus sipping
a nice earl gray/
peppermint/green tea
environment friendly mug
mp3 and do rag on my head
pen silently melting

Black Man Wharf Blues

July 13, 2009  :: 0 comments

Lines on face
lines on shirt
standing with high hats
weathered hands
weathered pants
reward for hard work
a fish
shoulders rolled back
like the sleeves
of his shirt
dreaming of a steak

Loon Call
((In memory of Richard Sevrens))

featured in the poetry forum July 13, 2009  :: 0 comments

We met under the bodhi tree
with chips for me
almonds for you
drink my strong coffee
out of a red carafe

We talk about hearing Mingus
places you drove your taxi
I talk about my shitty week
Remember Gayle, it’s the streets
and it’s war

I turn a corner expecting your
surprised face enveloping me
in a Richard hug you reserve
for old jazz boppers
even an errant funkster

We were listening to quartets
body and soul moving
to hip kats and kitties
speaking poems and rants

We sit under the tree
discussing Hughes’ haiku
and a Miles brew
your flute resting at your side
I wake up and remember
My tears falling in b flat minor
trilling coherent patterns
on this page

Salome’s Dance

featured in the poetry forum September 9, 2008  :: 0 comments

U2’s “Heartland” is on
I’m dancing for the woman
who has to drag herself
from cum wet sheets
find coffee, bum smokes
until the horn announces
her next trick

Thin hotel towel
put in a bag to be used
in a gas station bathroom
maybe a douce
probably not a meal
that luxury will have to wait
for a safe corner

Hoping the cops are in
a better mood today
nursing a skinned knee
and a missed chalkline
appointment
the crazys are
looking saner
GOT to be
more careful

Beating down jones
until theres enough money
there’s never enough
of anything

The whiskey mixes
with cum, sweat, cunt juice,
and shit in your mouth
and you would drown in a
river of dirt
to feel clean

Flinching at the judgement
stares of eyes and turned up
noses when they stumble
on your makeshift office
alley, doorway, bathroom stall
sometimes backseat at a stoplight

Sometimes they are gentle
it makes you want to hurt them
so you hold back
don’t give them the pleasure
the satisfaction
the need for pardon
you never gave yourself that gift

Acts 22:16 (Cat’s Song)

July 16, 2008  :: 0 comments

You must be washed to be clean
take me to your firmament
I find myself
Hanging
Off the cliffs
Of your smile

Your glance
Burns dry ice
Into me
chant your mohogamy
song
needs wasteland

Come to me
I can handle
love and pain woman
Give me tribunal
love of your brown alter
I will return it tenfold

The banquet
Ruth promised
You rains upon me
blessed in the waters
kiss sending bolts
to my soul

Glory
Shouting in the temple
Of your hands
my firmament
woman
daughter of Ruth

shouting into your chalice
glory
I am blameless
above your pedestal
woman
you are my madness

Dark Harlequin

July 16, 2008  :: 0 comments

The insult hurls the night
“Fuck you nigga”
I’m riding shotgun with my friend
Hyped up urban mode
Masks on

A cinnamon skinned youth
clutches his anger
While brown brothers
Periphery
Smelling the signals of
Fight

The man stumbles over
Struggling between fear
Unshed tears
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you
Addressing my friend and me
My friend a recent stoke victim
Tucks her defeated arm nearer
I sit spine straight

He shores his spilling rage
“I just got out today
And already there’s someone
who wants to get hurt”
“I feel better when I hurt someone”
“But not you” he gestures to me and my friend

I try to vanish him it ‘it’s cool’ gestures
But he won’t be waved off
He wants me to understand
“I didn’t mean you, I’m a Native American
I’m a Red Man
He yells to the sky
Before he staggers off
In search of conquest

Did I understand him better? Yes
When I have leashed my pain
When it rampages on wary strangers
No
When wounded attack each other
Throw fist toward the perceived enemy

Twilight’s Daughter

July 16, 2008  :: 0 comments

Daughter, if I could
tell you
My heart keened
You, amid that tribe of
near gone children

The loudest thugified brother
hauled up
popped you
dead in the face
you didn’t stop grinning

I sat with the rest
of us ole folks
Pinned down with fear
Guns we know you tote

Sometimes I feel like
I’m birthing the earth
Each momma’s
Ohhh
becomes mine
Flanks heaving in pain

I would let you know
how precious a vessel
You are
To let yourself
be done this way

I would resurrect the light
In your eye
Pride in your gait

My Hottentot Venus
do you cry
on the shoulder of twilight
When shadows
grow long

Sister Pigeon & The Blues Compilation

July 9, 2008  :: 0 comments

My friend believes that when they come
They will not come bearing
Gifts and cures
They will come for us as an appetizer
With a honey mustard glaze recipe

I thought, ‘if this is the craziest that she is
we should wish for this kind of crazy’
I see us; mad, vacant eyes
one honk or raised voice away from detonation
What will be the crimes of opportunity?
concrete mad samurais wait

You can’t watch all of us
we slip into your bedroom
whisper a litany of your crimes
while you tremor in restless hours

Wait a minute…the fever is breaking …this just in
news from the brown and black poor
played endlessly in Media’s theater

When fear is the only thing
that keeps you away
from what you are

Jazz

July 9, 2008  :: 0 comments

The jazz blows the skirt of
A high neck
Martini glass
High siding
Lady in black and silver
Bowing to the eloquence
Of need
Jazz players talk with
Their eyes and listen
With their hands
To break though
The language barrier
A sound as intricate
as a lover’s moan
when the sun is full on her face
dapples of minor notes
glowing from your breath

Mobius

July 9, 2008  :: 0 comments

“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

A comedian heretofore respected used that word to preface
The lack of truth in the face to face encounters
At sports events
By the second reference I pitched the halfway read book
In the trash
Good riddance for it
You know how ‘we’ get when they use
That word

You know how we get when ‘we’ use
That word
Baby
Child
That word
We were fed on
That word like soul food and
$5.00 haircuts
Not forgetting to get around that kitchen
Even if you got other blood in you

A beloved novelist
Recently dearly departed
Explained it in terms of fireworks
In an innocent June childhood
I blinked shook it off
continued reading his brilliance

Later that week, a dear friend
Ace bon heart
Confessed her father called her
that word
I gently corrected her
With some family narration
How that word
has used it’s ‘best before’ date