Wednesday, October 16, 2013

If my only contribution

If my only contribution
to this blanket-wonder world
is an affirmation of love
scribbled hurriedly on a
bathroom wall...
Well, that is enough.

Monday, September 2, 2013

The Death of a Lover (For Seamus)

Your wife is bright.
We converse, Hello, my name is, I’m from, I work at…
Yet, my soul turns
to your wife, kissing on my neck, slowly moving her hand down my back,
and lower, and lower, and lower, unzipping my pants,
her thick thighs pressed against my thick thighs, Oh Lord, I stifle my prayer
so I don’t wake the kids, My God, My God, My God! I rejoice.

Us, armwrapped, pleading for eternity before the children wake. We fall asleep,
if only for a few hours.
And wake, armwrapped.

Her work starts early so I cook the eggs and ham steak and pack a lunch to go.
I include a note. “Je t’aime,” it says.

We argue and reconcile every four months. We argue out of love.

Then her, holding my hand as I pass,
my children and grandchildren in the
next room, and me…
My life is mere seconds compared to eternity, in time yet in being.
I cannot speak.
I tell her with me eyes.
“Je t’aime,” they say. They can’t say it enough.
My speaking eyes close and she cries in Latin.

Time for home.

She holds your hand as you exit.
We will remember thy love more than wine.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

We made our bed in hell

I miss my old friend
but not enough to call
We made our bed in hell
beside the weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Now, I scream with delight upon
the gentle touch of sunlight
beaming through my window-shade.

My mind is clear.
My disposition calm.
I make my bed in heaven.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

I have Aged

I have aged
fifty-three years since November
No more motel love or Ecstacy.
If looks could kill
then I'll always be remembered
as that savage, rugged man
from the forest Yosemite.

I have aged
eighty-seven years since December
Got four more wrinkles on Me.
It is all those drinks, drugs
and women I've endeavored
My face
an epic story.

So take a drink
and have a smoke.
I'm happy with me tea.
Here! An older, more handsome
version of me.

Sunday, June 30, 2013

I poured my love like water

I danced into the darkness
back then, when
I was enslaved to
(and the nightlife)

I poured my love like water
yet you dried it in the sun
It is finished, Love
(and morning has begun)

I guess growing up
means giving up
(and the nightlife)

Sunday, June 9, 2013

One, Two, Three

      When I sleep, I dream
       of monsters and demons,
       vampires and dragons,

      Then, in those waking hours
       as I lay in bed and
       listen to Chet Baker
       (who played all night)
       I turn to my left
       and dream of you

      To hell with mascara!
      And eyeliner too!
      Come as soon as possible
      (though there's no rush).
       I'll draw the curtains
       and rest in your arms.
       Then, you'll only be a dream
       in sleep.


Wednesday, May 29, 2013


I have the
     strength of the universe
and the
     gusto of a particle.
I am as powerful
     as a supernova
yet live longer
     than the sun.
I shine like the bang
     that started it all.

Monday, April 22, 2013

A Man You No Longer Know

He often considers the
girl in the ripped KISS shirt with her
rock 'n' roll music and wet lips.

"Who are you?" she will ask
and he will sip his "thé au citron" and say,
"I am a man you no longer know."

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

When the Mirror Looks Back

The mirror looks at me while
purple sweat drips from my brow.
I lift these evil metals and pant.

My father looks back, through that dirty mirror.
My grandfathers and great-grandfathers and great-great-grandfathers too.
They came by boat, they came by land,
or were captured in a war, adopted
willingly and unwillingly by this great land.

They sold fruit, made wine,
spoke of Jupiter, Saint Anthony, Quetzalcoatl, and HaShem,
each in their own tongue
sighing their own burden.

They speak to me...Michael...Michele...Miguel...
Be the Man of your destiny.

"Just twenty more reps," I respond.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

St. Patrick's Day Reflection

I awoke with a pounding heart
and shaking legs,
the Jazz from my computer playlist still
silently resounding.
I made a cup of tea to calm my nerves.

It's been eighteen weeks since I've had a drink
and, by result,
I am drawn further and further into the forest.
I still waste time in
Éire Pubs, Blues Joints, and Rock 'n' Roll Clubs.
I'm more well-behaved
(yet not nearly as brave)
amongst the Beautiful Ballerinas.

I miss the Devil Whiskey, especially on
St. Patrick's Day.
This hankering nips at me like
rabid mini minotaurs.
St. Patrick, I pray, chase these snakes away.

Friday, March 8, 2013


I can feel it pulsating my veins,
my blood, my life, my chi.
My legs are sore and my brow is sweaty.
The sound of metal weights upon metal bars delights me.
The woman to my left breathes heavily.

At nightfall, I am weary and relaxed.
I smell the lemon chamomile brewing.
Herbal. No Caffeine.
Sometimes I add honey but tonight
I drink it straight.
No chaser.

I am unsure how I perceive myself.
I sleep easy and light, rain beating upon
my rooftop and yet I dream vividly.
"Forgive," I tell the Angels.
"Be still," they tell me.
"Love is on the horizon."

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Do Not Ask for the Title

I dedicated this song to a
Guatemalan woman back in two-thousand-and-six
who I thought I loved but was mistaken.
At the time, I was trying to quit cigarettes
and drinking gorges of Chai
to stave off the boredom.
I did not quit smoking
and I was not in love
but I still listen to this song
and sometimes drink Chai.

Monday, February 4, 2013


I've taken some blows before
but only to the heart.
Knocked out in the fourth round
of the title match then
sequestered to my room with only
chamomile tea and Gustav Mahler for comfort.

"Ich bin der Welt abhenden gekommen," I say.

Then I surface.
"I will fight again," I declare,
"and You will not knock me Down."

Monday, January 28, 2013


Goals: Box, love again, West Africa, tea, sobriety, tobacco pipe, wake up at 8, reduce closet, jail pedagogy, apologize, amend, peace, write, write, write, mental health, altruism, watch soccer daily.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

I wish I could guzzle cigarettes...

I wish I could guzzle cigarettes
every daylight hour
lying in bed and
listening to old Van Morrison records
in only my underwear and robe

And devour narcotics, mostly downers
every moonlight minute
making love with you under
a dim blinking
motel light

I wish I could suckle whiskey
out of straws like bored
businessmen in small-town airports
in Oklahoma
or maybe Saint Jean de Luz

But, mostly, I wish myself
whole, healthy, sane
to be able to love and
to lie in bed with you
sipping tea
every waking lifetime