She Hears Him

    


















She dreams
he scurries across the floor,
and through any nook or cranny,
disappears into the walls,
then she awakens to an empty crib
-- the house settles
-- the windows rattle.

All night
she hears him crying
behind the woodwork. 

Happy Union: A Path To Enlightenment

Happy Union, Texas

at the waterhole, north end of grandfather's farm

where Kirby keeps his cattle.

It's evening and 110 degrees.

Barbas de Oro is whooshing up from El Rio Grande.

The chaparral throbs, and the cornfields rattle like pissed-off snakes.

I float in a pond, listen to killdeer, and scissor-tails.

Frogs plop in the water and ripple after ripple

passes through me.

I'm a buoy connected to Yahweh.

My head bobs in the swish\swoosh

body of water, and I muse –

If Jesus is omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent;

if He is here at this moment,

has He counted every strand on my head?

If He knows me fully,

and I know Him,

having consumed His body

and drank His blood,

if He is here now,

does He ascend in golden plumes,

arms raised, palms turned outward,

pale face, blue-eyed, and blond;

or, is He in the water

nude,

dark, shiny as a stone;

hair raven and in curls,

eyes black and catholic?

"Well Rabbi," I begin,

"It's like this --"

We talk late in the evening.

Just me and Jesus

-- neither here nor there --

in the heart of Texas,

in a slow spiral,

our heads bobbing

in the swish\swoosh

body of water.

When Flowers Were In Bloom

When flowers were

in full bloom,
I saw you.
You were more beautiful
than any blossom
in any garden,
in any city,
in any state,
in any continent,
in any planet,

You were more beautiful --

When wildflowers sweetened
the bee laden days,
and sudden northern winds
blew those strange Saturdays
into so many lost Sundays,
I danced like a dervish
whirling, whirling
till flames burned
above my head.

And though I offered days
of bells and honey,
your heart walked
down a narrow road
to a temple in the east
never  to return --
I lost myself.

And in evening light,
I sat in a pasture
with a thousand bluebells
and waited for the stars,
and the cosmos dark daggers
shredded my heart,
and I hung naked
on the North Star
and wept --

Still,
I thought,
You were more beautiful
than any blossom
in any garden,
in any city,
in any state,
in any continent,
in any planet,

You were more beautiful --

although

my daughter screams
all you do is drink and write poetry
it's not true
i've never been drunk a day in my life
although
i've written plenty of bad poetry   

And It Was summer

One night,

as I smoked a cigar 

in my backyard,

the old lady 

from across the street

walked over 

with her pitbull

and complained 

about the smell.

"You smoke mucho marijuana,"

She said, pointing at my Backwoods.

"It's a cigar," I explained.

"No," she replied, "You stop."

"Listen, your dog barks all night long,

do I complain?"

"You stop," she demanded.

I said, "I stop when he stops.

Whatever his name is."

She replied, "Doe no."

"You don't know his name," I asked.

"Doe no," she repeated.

"Don't know," I asked again.

"Doe no," she said angrily.

"Wait a minute, his name is Don't Know?"

"Doe no," she yelled 

as her freaking dog 

took a crapzilla 

on my lawn.

She gave me the bird

and marched back 

to her fortified shack.

After that, 

every morning

I'd find a steaming pile 

of dog crap in my yard.

One day,

I planted jalapenos 

in the enriched soil.

and when the plant was full,

I picked the peppers 

and gave them 

to the old lady.

She walked across the street 

with Don't Know

and brought ice-cold horchata.

We sat in my garden 

and talked about 

the old country,

and the breeze made circlets 

of her hair,

and Don't Know barked 

at passersby,

And I smoked 

my Backwoods.

It was summer, 

and the days were long.

Bees buzzed the honeysuckles,

children played in the fields,

wives giggled like schoolgirls,

old men played cards,

and young men serenaded 

their sweethearts.

And we sat in my garden,

by the jalapeno plant,

and drank horchata

and let evening light

wash over us.

And after so many years,

And after so many years,
the world slides off my shoulders.
Elephants collapse
turtles flee --
pink evenings,
valleys and mountains,
Wednesdays and Sundays;
all, all is lost.
Believe me --
earth is flat, and the ocean,
well,
spills over the edge.

And after so many years,
you say, "My love is yours."
What colossal weight --
please,
not another word.

The autumn roads we traveled
led us here
to a graveyard in my chest.
Buried there
my heart --

please,
not another word.

u wear my skin

u
wear
my
skin
so
sweet
ly
these
caramel
ized
tiny
deaths
are
extreme
ly
tas
ty

every // day // with // u // is // dia // de // los // muertos

I want to be

I want to be an ant. It travels a certain path.
It comes and goes, goes and comes. It lives to serve --
a part of a whole.
It’s connected by chemical // by the unseen.
Its life fundamental // elemental.
It’s an essential part of a colony
but nothing
without the sum.

I saw an ant. Its pinchers ready to attack.
Only 2 segments of an ant.
Its head splayed // lifted to the sun.
How glorious was your death?
How perfect // beautiful // important.

I want to be
the ferocious ant that soldiered-up
and died on the lawn.
Its antennae vibrating //
harmonic // converging //
connected
to the unseen __

This day // Sunday // June 1st,
I want to be the dark ant
that’s led me down a certain path
that disappears into the earth
and marches to an octave
that rocks a cosmic tune //
stirs dust that settles on the dead
and unlocks a universal truth --

I want to be the ferocious ant
that soldiered-up and faced the unseen.
Its antennae vibrating in death,
in tune with the universe,
connected to the colony,
connected to me.

I want to be an ant __

Leave Me

leave me

my tequila & cigars

let me blow rings
around the moon
& sing her
old man songs.

u

u

were
chimes
creating
beautiful music
in
violent wind

i

i
am
caught
between
earth & moon
carpenter & burning bush
at my age
it's
a predicament
to find
self
in
the
surf & tide