Every Morning is a Monday and Every Evening a Friday
Here I am
With this man.
Yelling at God,
I’ve decided
to throw out every
fork and knife
in the kitchen drawers
only
teaspoons
serving
and dessert spoon
remain.
Ants
At the corners of your lips
not because you’re dead
but because you’ve
eaten ice cream.
I kiss you.
At the bow of the sail
boat.
we are sinking
into the sweet wool
of the young lamb
we have been tied to.
my wrists to your wrists.
our ankles to its cloven feet
together
in a bind.
Made drunk by the sunlight
as the sails fill tight
by the warm winds.
The thick cloth
supple to their touch
turns our body slightly over,
down the hard wooden decks
splinters made to peak.
underneath the skin held
by this big ocean.
ants.
learning how to swim.
Every ATM
Is also a
Jackpot machine.
Taking out a couple 20s,
When the slot starts spilling out
Bills I have never even seen.
Two bag boys come to my side.
Discretely
To help me.
Pick up the slips
So no one else at
The C-town will notice
And later try to jump me.
I give them a paper blue bill
Of one hundred and twenty-two
Thousand Dollars
And I tell them split it
For your troubles.
Bags of money,
And produce
Carrots, Ginger
And orange Juice.
i was born on a beach crying
Your pants are in the ocean.
Where I put them
On a sunny day
The rim of my hat
tilts like a horizon
As I stare at you back
You put me in the ocean.
Hand-Me-Down Body
Big small
Big small
The moon calls
This trip will last forever The legs,
The ones that never
Recall where they came from
They stop
as if to say is this all?
The Caribbean sees
a Water
lasts long time
keep you in my heart
long time
Beach wizard
Toes that taste
Like green lizards
Speak in the sounds
Of
The ocean,
you know he likes
to make his rounds
And so your body
Is it yours?
Where did u get those clothes?
And the legs and arms
Were they grown in those
Big farms
With the
scary black barns?
And the soul of the moon,
It pounds
On my temples
Where did I get this body?
And those clothes?
Did you get them at a store?
Or did you get them from me?
Like I got mine from you.
Hand-Me-Down Body.
The Game
the man on tv
said we’re now
all in heaven
the woman on our
tiny glass screens
screams
that man is
not real.
yes, it’s been confirmed
around 3:30 in the morning
we all went to heaven
and all the different governments
now say the same thing.
no war no money.
as if we were all
on the very same plane
paradise came
to us
at around 3:33
in the morning.
the older lady across the hallway
says they say
we won’t have to pay
our taxes anymore.
and the butterfly i saw
last week
comes to me
but only for a second
because nothing is
supposed to be the same
in this world that is now
in heaven.
Evil distance
Peeling potatoes
With the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met
How am I supposed to tell her
I’m sleeping
And this is only
A dream we’re living in
“you know, the sun wants to be a writer,”
says the freckled California woman
while she sits on this couch
telling us.
she knows this
because she once had
An affair with his father
and they stay
in touch.
i look up and
see you there
turning me into gold
wondering if that door
will ever open.
Its red metal face stares
back at me as
i fry on this silver rooftop.
Waiting for a feeding that
always seems
to come at the odd hours
Of the dark sunlit room
my perched shelf hangs from.
Trying to remember my forgotten wishes from the morning before this one.
The other thing
One side of my toe is bruised while
The other side
Still shines
like the scales of a fish
with pearled beige polish
from the nail salon
a little up town.
The one i was in
when you called,
“Want to go to a baseball game tonight?
Well now
like in an hour
at 6
on Staten Island
it’s only 7 dollars and
the view of the skyline
is totally stunning i’d like you to come.”
You say all this as my left foot’s toes are still soaking in almost hot water.
And the other foot
is being held by the sweet small hands of the woman whose face now escapes me almost completely.
All the girls are vietnamese
i think in that salon
and they all have generic american names like Betty and Linda.
And so
I said no
“I’m sorry i can’t
make it all the way downtown right now.”
And as I say this
I picture myself
on my way to the baseball game
in the ferry that faces
the skyline i am currently soaking my feet in
just to watch it
next to you.
With every stroke that is made.. / I am clearing your concrete debt. 888 \\ There are no karmic breaks.
〰️
With every stroke that is made.. / I am clearing your concrete debt. 888 \\ There are no karmic breaks. 〰️
Life as the tension between sporadic moments and a linear chronology
We are all one
Version of god’s purging.
This life that came to be
Was God’s mess.
Lost at sea.
Painting us in his image,
He gave us seconds.
Seconds to live.
Seconds to be.
Born
Breathe,
Eat,
And shit.
I wonder if
God sleeps.
Two phones flying in the middle of a hallway
You know,
Everyone has rats
They’re inside all of us.
Lighting up the plastered walls.
Buzzing.
Buzzing.
Burning Building
What a feeling
Baby’s teething
Guttural lament
Time to get building.
Like burnt skin,
The city’s peeling.
I, wearing my lion skin
The hounds following my trail as if
It were one very real
Map to a victory they have no language for.
In the backyard you lie.
And I find you under the endless mosquito nets.
The shadow of a thin grid on your
Shiny red cheeks.
patterns.
A king inherits a trap.
You walk me about
The wooden house
Patterns
You say it is much darker inside
during the day time.
In the other room my uncle,
King
Awaits his wine.
I’ve come to look for it,
But you’ve kept me here.
His hands tremble for my arrival.
For my sleep
does not guarantee
my return into realms
I have already seen.
Patterns.
For the sake of my survival.
Vertical Apertures
Trapped in the elevator
Of my mind.
This one’s funny
Because no one else gets to see
A cage meant
For only me
This part,
Momentary and Complete.
The camera that peers
downwards and forwards.
my life
a simple note in time.
Phone Company
You taste like
everything I’ve done tonight
Is a kitchen fire
On the ninth floor
Now it stings
on both ends
Little baby ego
Wails at the thought
That missing you
might feel real
Might feel more real
than having you
In the first place
I was young. numbers
Three, five, and 8
Nine is how ever many times you’ve left me
Minus one because my lives are always running late.
Than there’s lucky two and
We were born on the 6
Or you’re too early and
You leave me and
i chase you into the next
Life
Is a sixth note by a tenth diameter
And ten is the first number you put together.
Like you and me except this time.
I leave you and it hurts us both
Just as much as the last time
Even though we can’t remember.
The little owl named patience sits
On my nightstand.
And he’s not even close
But I feel I can’t call you.
Creatures of Creation
Why are you looking at me?
Says I
in the white turtleneck with the frame of my animal spine
pivoting as in the way I used to curl myself to look out the school bus.
My knees on the purple leather seats
and my hands
clutching the metal of the half open window.
Is it true your heart exists outside your body?
Is it out there still?
Should I be putting lost posters up?
Should I like to get it back if it does not naturally return to me?
Have you already invested in the future?
Says the man with the tie so tight on his neck
The skin around it
Has folded over;
Makes him look like a lizard.
With your money in the right place
The future can make you rich.
We are at the horse races now and I want to know what kinds of bets I can make.
Lizard man says
oh in life you can make just about any guess and double all your savings, you know. That’s what the future looks like- placing bets on endless opportunities. Invest your money now and the future will make you rich.
The key, sweet pet, is to know that the future will kill you. It will always beat you and so to win your money back you must bet on your sweet defeat.
Don’t you want release?
Don’t you want to be a mother and have a man have you on your knees?
Bet on the future. Give your savings away. Give your bets deep names after the Greeks and songs your own mother liked to listen to. Invest in the future. Let your heart take a different name, have a different face, and let them splash.
Into this great big betting pool.
What cage are we in and why does it make us want to build more, smaller cages.
Why can’t we stop making and throwing our hearts into the flames we are already burning on?
And now I think. Have I ever been so curious about another person? Enough to crawl up and want to take a bite out of them. Have you ever loved someone so much it makes you want to eat them? Swallow them deep and make your body into a cage. We must be Creatures of Creation.
To be raised by wolves.
To have a wolf father
Is to have a God that does not look like you.
Like a city in construction,
Who shall we pray to?
The wolf, the bridge, the man at the curb
The Drinking Counter and Her Mirrors
The woman at
the end of the bar
is barking.
Her two
playmates,
Wagging tailed pups
do not even hear her.
They are barking too.
And the radio sings
“Every body plays a fool.”
And something about redemption.
She looks lost in her eyes.
I wonder where she hid
the lost posters.
After Morning Song
Dedicated to Miami, FL
Red is three.
Paint me
white. On the Lord’s day,
Do you hear the frequency?
I am awake
on a Sunday.
In my city
where all my friends sleep.
You were asleep,
long dream.
Now you are not.
You will make a wrong leap. And hang with the rope real taught.
The tick of the tock
Get high, volume high
Think
like there’s a door to unlock.
And what do you do
when nobody loves you,
but everybody wants you?
Why is it always right or wrong. Only those two.
But it’s more like right or good, Which would you choose?
Roll me a six.
Do you hear the frequency? What if we admit
there’s nothing left to fix. Try it.
You might get lucky.
When it’s between
say what you mean
Or do what you feel.
Between smile wide
watch them turn green,
Or count to five,
breathe out big sigh.
Colors in the sky
Why do we lie?
In my city
full of fiends.
Some days
I can’t hear the frequency.
When it’s between
Feeling so tight and so tired
Or getting so high and so wired.
The effluvia of my rotting brain
Puts out the fires
of my empty stomach pain.
Makes me speak like God’s
teardrops on the windowpane.
Tell me.
Do you hear the frequency?
When it’s between
what’s right
or what’s good?
Vitamin A is the best source of collagen
Today I bled on my left knee
I talk to you about how hazy
It is for me
To see
To see me
Far away from here
Six years
Maybe with a couple babies
Feeling so much better
Light as a feather
And our little face
It peers
At the light made
by tomorrow’s light trace
On today’s empty plate
Clean slate
Much tougher
than the
Baby
Blue lace
You wore those nights
That made you fade
Into the crying little mess you say
You fear
Every morning when the feeling doesn’t change.
Instead, its still here
Inside of you
And me
Along with your bloody left knee.
Untitled
What a tremendooooo
Doh
doh
doh
do….
do do do
Tremendo
Tremen
dita soy yo
Como la madre que te parió.
I am made of three.
Number 3
Number 3
Stuck up on a tree
Number 3
Number 3
How far out do you see?
High enough to be
Past all the painted debris?
But low enough to stand
Under God’s dry hands.
me and all my multiple versions.
So different in design but all the same person
The whole world watches As you struggle with its latches
I want to talk about isolation, Silent, patient
This tree
This ship
This baby on your hip
Not demanding, I’m
glad I found you
Number 3
Number 3
Don’t fall asleep yet
Number Three
Number Three
Today
The clock ticks to the left.
You don’t live here anymore.
I smell into your jacket.
Yesterday. I flushed Mama’s
contacts into the toilet.
he is worried I am not eating enough.
When you die
Your bones are buried and
They decompose
And they are made out of numbers.
Full of tiny numbers
The same ones you
Play on the keyboard.
Put it into the keyboard.
The boy I love tonight,
He tells me this
And the light in his eyes
Is tinged with the grooves
Of my drowning heart.
You are everything.
Momentary and Complete
A perfect circle.
Inside of me.
My finger prints are missing
Todai I get hai
In my cage
I sing songs to the world
That keeps me
Todai there is no
wronge.
I feel new and drunk.
Drunk with sad rage
Why do we lai
Where should I haid?
A song to skate alone to
I am a pirate.
I sing in my sleep.
I sow what I reap.
I gnaw on each day
As if it were one
Very big feast.
Momentary and complete.