Poem 20151008

word after word is the
word is the only
after word the only way to
word after
get everything down
word after word after that
sticks in your throat like
word after like
word after a bad simile
that sorta kinda
word after after after
word word works

Poem 20151007

it scurries through grass
and faster than the eye
can track
it is gone
down into the ditch
over a wall
along the fence

you catch it only
when it pauses to feed
displacing birds
and gnawing at thistle

you move
and it disappears
a streak of gray
and wrinkled

Poem 20151006

you have to keep it wet
the clay
or you’re going to lose it

the surface dries like leather
it won’t respond to your touch
won’t move under your fingers

without moisture
it ceases to be alive
and no amount of prodding or scraping

will open those half-closed eyes
or part those supple lips

Poem 20151005

gray sky filled with clouds
and a cool breeze
is this a hint of autumn
portents of weather to come

but the forecast calls
for 80s and 90s
and more heat
and less rain
until el niƱo
rising like santa
from the sea
delivers his rains
in winter and spring

so fall we wait

Poem 20151004

i rest my thumb
in the valley of your spine
above your waist
as we cross the street

not so much to direct
as you know the way
and not so much to protect
because there’s no real danger

but in a sense
it is to protect something
–different than moving you
out of the path of an oncoming car–
to direct you
–not in a direction you
are not already going–

but more
this thumb
that vertebra

Poem 20151003

today at the market
they had lechon
after the last two times
i came to the counter
and asked

the first time they told me
they only have it on the weekend
the second time that they had run

and the greasy pork
with its fried skin
tasted so much better
now that i had cornered it
like i had hunted it down
and cooked it myself

Poem 20151001

he said
over a cup of coffee
i’m buried alive
in my own heart

i offered sugar
but he waved them both
preferring it black
and hot
and bitter

not that i mind
he continued
it’s my heart
i found my way in
–why would i want to
to find my way out?

Poem 20150930

the great thing
about nihilism
is that it is an -ism
that doesn’t care
if you believe in it
or not

so go ahead
and stare into the abyss
you’re already a monster
and you terrify it
more than it does you