Monthly Archives: October 2014


“Poetry is the most difficult, the most solitary, the most life affirming thing that one can do in the world.”

–Stanley Kunitz

Mexican Wrestling Pep Talk

All of you luchadores
wrestling in your silvery masks
can lean on a post and take note:
matches are cancelled until further notice.

Hearings will begin Monday
on the differences observed
in cabrones who care
and cabrones who don’t give a shit
and no one is exempt.

I shouldn’t have to say this–
your character is more than your mask.
Cortez was a God to the Aztecs
and he had no mask.
The mighty Cassandro
is Farrah Fawcett’s ugly demon sister who can kick your ass
and he does it with only make-up.

Anyone bringing anything less to the ring
is a chingalosa.

This is lucha libre, not teletubbies.

Jimi Kiss the Sky

“I am electric religion” — Jimi Hendrix

A tall glass of ice
purple infused essence
a hotel room where the windows
are painted with street riots
you collapsed worlds
spraying them with
day glo on sonic walls
It hurt to look away from you

You grew the blues up more
sexy, ugly, wild and beautiful
than your time could hold
leaving a mark
leaving more for us
than we thought
we could handle

Van Gogh of street sounds
Blake with a Stratocaster
Jimi we hardly knew you


waking up
rising through
many hundred feet of water

in the night’s
well blooded wine
and flint skinned memory

is where
we become
parents to our dead


We sometimes
like feral dogs

and still
we hunt together.

This thing
thicker than blood,

is it

Getting in the Game

For days he watched
the water taxis
come and go
across the shallow bay

Life was like chess
he thought. Each possibility
precluded many others
until few options remained

Finally, he set out
In his own leaky vessel
Landing on the far shore
and finding the trains not running

he spent his days walking the streets
buying art in back alleys, eating like
a high caste mandarin and watching
Chinese lap dances for the dead

Sitting In

In the next world over,
I wander the halls most days
sitting in on different
jam sessions.

Mondays I usually sit in
with Monk and Miles
running the changes on
After Midnight and talking trash.
Miles often brings chicken.
He is so country.

Tuesdays Hendrix shows us
the craziest chord inversions ever.
Jimi is the sweetest guy.

Other days it’s Django or Lightnin’
or Muddy or Bird showing us all how it’s done. Bird likes country western and everybody gives him shit for playing it on the jukebox between sessions.

The sessions break up late
and we sometimes go over to
Louis’ for gumbo so hot
it can take the top of your head off.

Things aren’t bad
In the next world over.