haiku: at Playa Caracas
under moon, sun, sea
the sea grass is breathing in
sea turtles hover
The moon is bright tonight.
My love and I are dancing in the light of the silvery moon.
A cosmic spotlight highlights our every move.
Lighting flashes.
Nature’s strobe light turns darkness into a dance party.
We dance to the sounds of the creatures of the night.
Our eyes lock us together.
We move as one.
We dip,
We twirl.
We slide,
We glide.
We bust a move,
We have nothing to hide.
In each other’s arms time stands still.
We grip each other with all our will.
Clinging to the magic of the night.
Not wanting it to disappear,
We press our lips together tight.
Soon morning light appears.
There is time,
For one more,
Moonlight Dance.
crooked smile
lingered too long
teeth yet to fall
aching pains crying
i don’t need those
stick them on anyway
wax doesn’t take the pain
oh how good they look
compliments your younger age
i don’t want to be that
brother had less issues
six months longer now
crying in bed one morning
just want a fucking payday
i don’t jinx that
tomorrow i won’t have to
It is time now, dearly beloved,
to remember the tadpoles,
the hundreds, the thousands
of pint-sized frogs
who will never grow up,
who will never lift their lusty voices
in the night. We are here now
to remember the lives lost,
so many lives lost
in this last week of May,
the last week of so many Mays
when the puddled water
which has fed and clothed
and nourished their young bodies
is drained, when the cover comes off
and the poisoned pool is made ready
for another season. Dearly beloved,
it is time now to remember.
“Oh? And what are you going to do?”
Strong and broken and big
but only feels big
when making others miserable
“Tell the police it was self defense.”
small but strong. broken but mending.
tired of the bullshit. tired of being scared
plant your feet and roar
I’m eighty-four
it’s not graspable
that I’m without a home
not homeless
but kicked out
of a houseboat
on a bathtub of a lake
with my buddy Jack gone
& most of “The Dix” gang.
Brooklyn to Lake Herrington
it’s all a blur, a messy mix
of men and women
a child sprung like a pearl
from an empty shell, lovers
of (all) sorts, my career
as a male nurse with a stint
in the navy, vietnam so early
like a picnic on the beach.
Penelope struts around
on the upper deck in a thong
bikini yelling get up ZZ
get up and start writing
but I’m down, down in my cups,
no mood for memories
no mood to be Penelope’s great
gramps & tell my story about
and no gift as a bard or poet
i’m sorry i didn’t get a good enough look at you
to figure out who you were
sometimes,
i think about how beautiful you’d be
standing in that field
near the red barn
with the sun setting behind you
i’m sorry
that i hit you
It’s so steamy it can’t be real
The sun has gone down but the air still shimmers like the surface of the ocean
The swollen full moon
is hazed over
As heavy as my breasts
You have to move through the thick street like a velvet curtain rustling
To remind the air that it moves
It’s an unholy strange sensation
Like wool sprouted on your face and hands
In a thicket of nettles
Breathing water
It would be quite pleasant to be naked in a lake on a night like this
Lying on a rock
The still air it’s own roaring bonfire
Skin glowing
In the syrupy orange moon.
For those six years,
You knew of the abuse.
You sat back and watched.
I guess you were amused.
I know you never wanted to be a mother.
You just wanted friends you could control.
Friends who understood your pain as if it was their own.
Well, here I am.
In the flesh,
With skin so cold.
I am a product of your making,
And of your neglect.
I’ve applied for a commercial drivers license.
My hair is red.
tomorrow, I’ll get up and drive to the barn.
I sleep in a California bed.
I have a sneaking suspicion that my favorite color is pink.
My grandfather is dead.
At night, I dream of the ocean.
yesterday, I bought a water filter for lead.
I may or may not marry my high school sweetheart.
But moving to Illinois fills me with dread.
today, I think of deep tree cities.
I’m scared of all the things I’ve left unsaid.
