Friday, November 21, 2014

We Had a Shared Medical Condition

What it was held up to a patchwork sky
leaning in on the serpentine coast
darker than that god you used to pray to
at every roadside shrine we passed

I decided that you eyes were
like the pigeons of the Holy Ghost
roosting upon the Temple of Ephesus at dawn
or was it the Ventura pier at sunset?

Either way the rustling of wings
took me back to the palm trees of Venice
& the Egyptian labyrinth of alleyways I trekked
every day on my way to the beach

It never ends until it does like breathing
& to crisscross the furious tropic of dreams
I said Tell me EVERYTHING but
please be ambiguous

& the light fell like dust on the pages of our
sworn testimony as a warm breeze rolled
thru the fortune palms

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Today is November 19

Hey, Joanne

Happy Birthday

Wednesday, November 12, 2014


The bottle was half empty
that’s a fact
perception had nothing to do w/it
I taught myself Spanish
just so I could sing along
Doors opened and shut
The concrete steps that led
down to the beach were covered in
graffiti, blood, and seaweed
The wet sand was the color of your eyes
I was sipping the salt mist
you were sliding past all that
like a shadow on stained glass
The music was great
I did the Shuffle, I did the Stroll, I did the

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Water Music

for Alison

Remnants of summer still
layered in ocean fog
A butterfly, a seashell,
a guided tour thru the
entertainment capitals of the world

Saturday, November 1, 2014

There was a time I thought a thesaurus was a kind of dinosaur

Although I was hopelessly distracted by Water Moon Kuan-yin
& some rather naive local shrubbery it was the cloud pattern that
kept me guessing
& like those who know or those who don’t but wish they did
those empty waves at the Lane deliver news
of distant storms that died at sea leaving nothing but a soft
sigh to be picked up by a weather satellite & transmitted to palm trees 
along Beach Street
                        as they present an interesting tableau set against the 
hazy blue upholstery of a late summer sky
                            green entanglements notwithstanding
I had a stolen surfboard & a library copy of Songs & Sonnets 
my hands resembled my father’s & my heart was like a Mars bar
melting on the manifold of a ’56 Chevy