Be my last girlfriend

Be my last girlfriend

Incense in the Kitchen gives
Fragrance to the rose, in full blossom
It's pedals surrendered in complete faith
Eternal consciousness, a poor substitute
for your absence

The blush of your skin
The magic of your eyes
Their shape and color
Animated by your timeless body

The trickle of your laugh
and tongue.


The Crow & Mule

Eating figs rutted road
Convoy dust Israeli jeeps
Lurching hault
The seeds in teeth
Cracking my head

Rubber bullets, real amo?
Amateur soldiers
New Jersey bread
Taking time between High School
From the pool and Manhattan streets

Rocks from the soil
Bounce from armor off helmets
Trucks transformed into sizzling
Flame balls bursting
Moltov cocktails

Startled donkey
Chained to its cart
A crow's squak audible
Breaking nerves
Pause in chaos.

Fear & Faith

Last words, form dissolved
Puddle perturbed, farce faked
Silver screen, Hollywood hills
Animal dream, hyphen scar
Sewer life, burning star


Car Sick

Withering on the bus
High on turns, twists, and jerks
Streaming cars, paint job puss
Breathing unconscious quirks
And writing what's mentioned
To a sixth sense and a fourth dimension


Pain body
The world is your toy
Smashed up and broke
Short circuited soldier moat
Dolls ragged hair skin plastic fair
Eyes distrust the view
Of a child formed of flesh
Its makers on the side - detached -
Surrogate energy playing a roll
Assigned by the spirit world


Portola Valley

Mountain lion distant call
Portola forrest standing tall
Pricks of mansioned plots
Swindled profits, landscape clots
Fragrant mist ensconced leaves
Dark patchwork swells and heaves
Time and temperance take flight
In space its presence might


Túpac Amaru Revolutionary Movement

"Don't signify" he said
Hot and sweaty
Damp carpets and walls
Thumps from MRTA soccer
Hooligans in the main hall
Cover sounds of soldiers
Boring beneath the Japanese
Ambassador's residence
Readying explosives
Their plan: Save face
Enforce their agenda
Muzzle poor in bloody rage

While Lori Berenson sits high in a cell
Peeled apples served through cold bars
Her parents laugh with incredulity
Out in a valley
Cameras catching their every move
Lori's anger
Ego spitting
At masked cowards
Serving a lawless verdict
Hooded courtiers serving
Enfogged families invisible
To their feet in the soil
Along rows of coca fields

Out of the Ether

They come when I'm conscious
The thoughts and concepts
A road traveled untread
Frought with divinity and ego dread.

Who trusts into this empty space?
The writer - a wizard -
Conjuerer of gifts, rhythm,
Blessed grace