country grass in my hair v

My mind reflects a stage
My Mama tricks her brain
My hero has no cape
I feel, then go insane
I touch and it goes blank
You stare at me, without a name
I’m begging you
To restrain, the shaking of lips
How can I complain?
A mocking test-kiss
My mind reflects a stage
My Mama tricks her brain
My Papa is a bastard
Put me in a basket
Pushed me in the ocean
Left me cold and lonely
A cricket guide my swelling pride
Through a thicket to stars


Red trumpet
With the coolest man in history
Behind silver mouthpiece
Raw nerve lies exposed
In blue, pianist praying mantis
Improvising on keyboard in head wrap & glasses
Shorter just keeps going… going…
Bass transfixed, almost hypnotized,
Dripping sweat, drums roll across
Bursting forth
Giving birth to thunder
Jumping from their chairs
Color red streaks across now, cool,
Drum snaps… snaps…
Check mouthpiece, wipe the sweat
Stretch jaw, pause
Beautiful music
They bow away from the mic and nod
They adjust the knobs switch instruments
Stay silent
Die and come alive again

Across the Table

Why did you cry on a wooden bridge watching old war planes fly over the river, feeling the rumble, the sound of propellers that drove thoughts of young men in World War II?
The destruction of the bomb (war) on unsuspecting geese who lead ducklings into water, calling attention to nature, forgotten by machine. Am I the river it’s elf? Timeless, swept away


For Evelyn,

No one glances in her direction
Precious beings in halls
Charged with humble skin
In fortress of kings
She dreams herself a Queen
Rising over wheat fields
Golden tapestries play across the land of her kingdom
Few see her shine
Few see a Portuguese fire in her eyes
Trickster, she curses her enemies with a stare
Ebony horns lifted from her head
A symbol of hooked flesh
An example of Earth before the flood
Her likeness is a rose
Her beauty is a pose in the rain
Without a home

Dreams of elvish texture gentle
Protector of hummingbirds
Lily ponds and vagabonds
Where she builds a scene from nature
Bending bramble bushes and
Shucking coconuts by the sea
Her light twisted hair ballets
Around her garden features
Giving each shadow shape of
Swooping eagles
Beneath her eyes, cheeks, and
Cliff rock chin
Dancing alone like a woodland woman
Her blood pumped by a dog’s heart
No one glances in her direction
I know she’s alright
When Evelyn’s smile stretches into the City
We’re all gonna be alright

Seal of Summer

Clumsy footed white sundress
Hyacinth bomb of ruby-footed rings
Rabbit woman lies shaded by trees
Hidden until dawn.
Sweet warm honey dripping golden
Bubblegum lips jade queen hides
By deep emerald pools, gullies, and
Streams and the interplay
Of shadows thrown by the leaves
Hidden by hills.
She sits next to a gilded swan
Her fair figure admired by wolf-pup
Romulus and Remus.
Face a petrified stone of amber
Eyes of ice and sunlit meadow
Reclining on a bed of grass soft
As lamb’s ear
Dew point diamond earrings playing in her hair.
The fish watch her dance
Next to a waterfall she looks
Like the creator

Of my heartache.

Dead Parachutes

She is a Nubian dandelion
She dances on whiskers of dreaming men.
Her voice changes with the shape of each ear.
Thousands of birds shed feathers
Disturbing reflections of her mind’s

She is a Nubian dandelion
Her hands are soapy with dishwater.
Wind takes away every desire.
Drinking freckled lemonade
The Nubian dandelion is a maid.


Finding the “natural” way of human life

Primitive existence and open love for
the feelings we share as a species

Finding a lost city of humanity with values of the
Indians and native peoples of every culture

Cultivating a way of life which sustains and protects
The ecology of our home

No capitalism, no competitive market, no business
Without the complete, uninhibited, freedom
and health of individuals

Human soul searches for places to live
Fully as a collection of memories and convictions
have built them

When we experience drugs we are convinced that the vision
and knowledge we witness lies universally
within everyone, waiting
to be told that it is okay
to begin to awaken

We can feel as connected to fellow man
As to any other substance on our planet;
see as just another form of ourselves

The complex ecology on our planet can benefit
from humanity that is a compassionate shepherd.

Lost cities, undiscovered planets

Are we looking for something to tell
We have gone too far?

That our life today does not have to be
how we have built it?

That the walls between us are apart of an
imagination which we share?

That we don’t have a need for money –
We can grow our food, we can feed each other

No one has a right to our time
No one has a right to our life

That we are born without debts and take none with us
to the next life?

That your insecurities are just a game inside
your mind

That everything people say s just a dream
Good a dream – Evil, just a dream

Neither means anything to the whole of creation.

That people who litter donated to charity?

That people who clean the street berate their children?

That the people who eat healthy and consider
themselves, have no consideration?

That the wandering man killed his own brother?

That the man tending his garden is Buddha?

Love exists without you, without me
Life is a cat’s blink

Whispers to Sea: XV – Final chapter

Single mindedness between high and low ranks. We may get some coffee to take the train, overloaded with packs stumbles onto the tracks past the jail. Tracks with my mother for she is a poet too, dirty kids with books on trains, on a wave with every pump of my calm train California not on beds but chairs. Headed for C. and I., his love. But people suffer and we forget all cooped up inside. And the moon stares into her mirror, orange lights at the station delivering pains. The first from Cupid’s dart gone, small lights dot the railroad. Companions’ doomed flight, train that is blocking their road. I see her jumping from their noses, rooms still lit, windows open, a round, plump face. Just carried it with him. My brain memorialize the trip but they fade. When I return home, a bottle! Esteban, Portuguese poet inhabiting the muck. The sun telling time, stir. The sun perks his rising ear to song. Above them a red apple, flamboyant reality. Esteban Vallejo hides in the jungle, is brewing to pick up these books. Good selection? Plus more. Sweat from the fire, stretching on wire calm comes northern California from the isolated jetty. Rainy for the weekend, a warm wood stove. Hear his rapid breath from one mountain to another. Summit days spent running through rain. Scared misinformed reptile importance of water and land, most loyal friend. Time I am not myself. Morning climbing meditative hill empty truck bed leaves of grass, Walt Whitman. I get high to escape and get away. Lines of birds along the shore move up to mark the tide. When I die light my body afire and set me out to sea. Drums roll by on the tracks and the Ruger in my hand yelps ignorant. “You probably should have paid.” Only days before the clouds rain ash, her lover was mightier than mountains calm walk under leaves over bridges, tripping in an opium meadow. Vehicle to keep out the harsh wind. Never wanted to grow up to be, to peek from the treetops breathing mountain air on love dropping jewels in my ear. Not an object for strangers to behold, looked and smiled. So we shared a wave. Field with a princes brown horse, road – Stoned. Birthday with my beautiful love, staring at purity. A kitten naps with me. It is only a matter of going (If you’re headed to Akkaba). Protests? Wonderful streets searching for the next cup of coffee. The Man exits. And I have surplus for hungry babies to feed. A strange upon the lids the strain. How when the leaves were green I was not the same. Inflation long quiescent is stirring, conspiracy charges misfire. You are me. And to Hell to take them home.